


Thaig's gift (Dragon Age Inquisition)

by Cosplayplush



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Deep Roads (Dragon Age), F/M, M/M, Par Vollen (Dragon Age), Tevinter Imperium (Dragon Age), Thedas (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2020-04-23 08:11:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 32
Words: 117,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19147012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cosplayplush/pseuds/Cosplayplush
Summary: A misplaced spirit has been branded with the Orb of Destruction's mark. The Breach becomes a demanding problem that must be solved if for nothing more than saving her home from the chaos to come.A Spirit, a Orlesian fashion guru, and the Champion of Kirkwall walk into the Inquisition...MAJOR SPOILERS





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Finally able to work on a new story. My largest was uploaded near the end of it's plot so this will be a bit different. Chapter by chapter uploads for now and I'll do my best to update the tags, ships and warnings as I can. Goal is to beat my 182k word/475pgs score. Buckle up my dears, this is gunna get wild.
> 
> First things first, running the tutorial.

An armored hand gripped her sleeve, pulling the woman out of the cells. Sael looked to the sky and saw a gaping maw of green pulsing in the sky. Staggering along at another's direction allowed her to scan her memories. Everything seemed to be in tact, even memories she hadn't returned to in ages. The thundering footfalls over stones in the dark. Angry voices clashing with guttural howls. It seemed that everything was in place save for the time from walking into the Temple of Sacred Ashes to being hauled around like stubborn livestock.

"It's the breach and they are blaming you. They need someone to be at fault." The other woman spoke without turning toward her captive. "The sky is torn asunder and demons are pouring out. Everyone is afraid. The Divine is dead."

Sael shook the haze from her mind and focused on the present. "And me conveniently being around is enough for an hanging?"

"No one said anything about a hanging, but all I can promise is a trial." Her accent was thick, like a gilded ornamental armor. Hair black as soot and a hint of a jagged scar across her face when she turned slightly. "Do you have a name?"

"Alas'en is enough for my executioner." Her tone was flat and cold.

"Cassandra." Accent weaved through the woman's name, a snake along a sword's edge. "The conclave was hers and it's destroyed. A chance for mages and Templars to bring an end to this war. She brought their leaders together..."

Sael listened half-heartedly as Cassandra continued explaining. She knew this story already, only difference was the props and actors in this regurgitated play. Walking through the hastily constructed camp, the faces of those far more aware of this scene, glared at her in passing. The Seeker stopped, drawing a dagger to cut Sael's bonds.

"An act of kindness?" Sael sneered quietly, rubbing either wrist.

"Of convenience." Cassandra returned with an equal growl. "I can't be picking you up from the snow every time you tumble."

Sael was quiet for a moment, looking up at the swirling grey storm clouds above them. The massive green glowing gash in the sky beckoned in hushed whispers to her. She turned back to the Seeker. "Where are you leading me?"

"Your mark must be tested on something smaller than the Breach." Boots clicking on the stone bridge as the warrior woman started onward.

An immense amount of trust in either Sael or in the Seeker's abilities for her to turn her back on the woman being accused of mass murder and ripping the sky open. Nothing needed to be said, Sael was still to fresh from the event to even begin tossing insults and sarcasm at strangers, let alone a jailer of her own. Cassandra commanded the gate at the end of the bridge be opened, announcing their descent into the valley below. Any additional distance between herself and the sky was a welcome notion. Though, it was hardly the miles and miles of earth draped over her that she longed for at the moment. This was too open for her liking.

Up the snow framed trail, at the crest, could be seen a vortex of green energy twisting beneath the breach. Green energy, vortexes and demons could have only meant one thing. The Fade. This Breach that had all the local creatures of Thedas scrambling for cover was a tear in his veil drawn up between the Fade and the rest of creation.

"..." Sael felt a smirk pop into the corner of her mouth. She dismissed it as quickly as it formed. "A backfire if I ever saw one." She muttered under her breath.

Past the small bonfires dotting the path, the mark blasted pain through Sael's arm. Fire, lightning, and teeth rocketed under her flesh along the bone. She yelped in pain, sinking to her knees, clutching the offending limb. Sael remained curled on her side in dirt and snow.

Cassandra quickly approached, pulling Sael up to sit and pulling her to her feet. "The pulses are coming faster now." Patting the accused woman on the unmarked shoulder.

"Right," Sael scowled. "Just like childbirth all over again." She started again behind Cassandra. The Seeker took pause at the mention of childbirth. Sael could feel the woman considering her with an intense boring gaze.

The silence carried for another dip and rise of the path before Cassandra broke it. "The larger the Breach grows, the more rifts appear and more demons we face."

"Still failing to see where that is my fault exactly. Starting to feel like an scapegoat though," Sael barely looked up toward the Seeker. "At my trial, mind finding me a proper bell to wear?"

Cassandra let loose a disgusted sigh, as if this quip of sarcasm hadn't been her first of the day.

"How did I even end up here?" Sael asked, pushing to match pace with Cassandra.

"You mean 'survive'?"

"Did I stutter or something?" Sael fought to keep her frustration and anger in check. As long as she had lived, there was no point in exposing herself here and now. "What happened, Cassandra? Why am I the guilty party?"

"They say you stepped out of the rift and then fell unconscious."

Sael stopped at large stone archway crossing the dirt path. "So by that fact alone I am responsible for your Divine's death and everyone in that shanty?" Anger breaking loose for a moment.

"You are held for question thanks to your mark that responds to the Breach and the fact you are the sole survivor of the Conclave." Cassandra growled back. The Seeker was also battling her own temper. "...They say a woman was in the rift behind you. No one knows who she was."

The women moved through the archway and onto the stone bridge. "...I want a bell or that woman's head at my trial." Sael snipped coldly.

"I am doing the best I can with-" A neon green bolt of lightning struck the opposite end of the bridge. Both woman dropped through and onto the ice below.

Cassandra was the first to regain her footing on the frozen lake below. A green fireball hurtled towards them, ramming through a raised snowbanks at the shore. It skittered to a stop before them and formed into a shade demon. The ghastly twisted spirit hissed with breath. Pointed claws wriggled at them. Clinking of metal on metal and leather gave evidence to impossible swaying of the body.

Seeker charged at it, sword raised and shield in front. The two bashed into each other as a second shade landed and formed in front of Sael. The woman pinched the bridge of her nose. It had already been a very very long afternoon and the day star was giving her a headache. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath.

Devouring darkness, dancing pebbles and pricks of icy water. Bones parting before stone. The pounds of running feet. Wheezing of panicked breathing. Stone the stone the stone. The roads, all roads lead home.

Sael flicked her heel outward, the ground below the lake responded. A spike the width of a qunari's arm shoot upward. Shade and an unfortunate fish found themselves skewed through, writhing, shrieking and clawing at the stone spike. Sael pushed the same foot forward just a smidgen and the spike exploded into dozens upon dozens more jutting out every direction. The shade dissolved to green fragments being sucked back toward the Breach.

The other shade was dispatched by the Seeker. Cassandra turned just in time to see the Sael's shade die. A sword turned from the absence of the shade to point at Sael.

"How'd you do that?" The kindness that was previously in Cassandra's voice slipped away as she guarded herself from Sael.

"I hardly need a staff or sword to kill something." Sael offered flat. She drew Cassandra's attention to the spike and fish. "I could have easily done that anytime I wanted if that means anything to you."

Cassandra sheathed her sword, the shield hooked to her back once more. "...You're right, and I can't always be there to defend you. I have to remember you did not attempt to run."

"Hardly need to run, there is clearly something more interesting going on up here." Sael wore a confident and smug smile. She raised an eyebrow when Cassandra roughly shoved a string of potion bottles into her hand. "A gift? But I didn't get you anything."

"I'm beginning to wonder if the trail is truly all that important." Cassandra groaned. "I have had more than my fill of clever remarks today."

Sael chuckled and nodded. "I'll be happy to meet my cohort in the mission to annoy the piss out of you."

Cassandra groaned in disgust so hard Sael thought the woman's circlet braid might would light on fire.

"Tell me Seeker," Sael grinned ear to ear at the thought of another sarcastic soul present. "Where are all of your soldiers?"

Cassandra had to take several deep breaths before she could answer. "At the forward camp. Fighting. We are on our own for now."

"The blessed Chantry has a slow response time." Sael shrugged.

"Mind yourself, mage."

Sael shook her head. "An if I was a warrior? Rogue? Would that garnish me some favor with the Chantry?"

They continued along the path in silence, Cassandra refusing to give the other woman anymore ammunition to annoy her with. The crested another slope to find more demons spawning in the distance. Cassandra warned Sael of the wisp green humanoids fighting at a distance as more shades glided toward the pair. Cassandra barely got her sword free before spikes like before spiked the shades and the wraiths were shredded in swirls of dirt and gravel. Cassandra glared hard at Sael, a searching anger.

"I don't have time to play fair with small game." Sael shook her hand, the miniature twisters and spikes fell back where they came from. "Shall we?" She gestured with her arms for them to start moving again.

The path broke off into the frozen stream, again shades and wraiths appeared. Cassandra didn't draw her weapon. The Seeker crossed her arms over her chest and waited with a scowl to see what Sael would do next. The other woman simply repeated her same attacks as before with the same results. Cassandra was as annoyed as when she started off with this mage and learned equal parts of nothing truly revealing about her.

"You command magic like I've never seen before." Cassandra mentioned, a hand turning over in the space between them. "Where did you learn this type of spellcraft?"

Sael walked ahead this time. "In less than a minute explain to me how you manage to become so skilled in swordplay and became a Seeker of Truth?"

"I can't." Cassandra straightened up in pride. "It would do no justice to the Seekers."

"There's your answer then."

Cassandra's shoulders slouched a bit and followed in silence.

Up the stairs across the stream and around the corner they found the path again. They walked along the shore's over hanging cliff, a stone man made wall being the first real evidence of civilization out this far in a long while. Back again down the snowy hill to another section of frozen lake only for more shades and wraiths to form. Sael clicked her tongue in disgust, she didn't stop. A single swipe across the air in front of her and again the demons dissolved to green glowing fragments headed back to the Breach. Ahead was another staircase, the start marked by two stone pillars and small fires atop them. The woman climbed the stairs two at a time. Heaving hot breaths plumed into small clouds in front of them. Halfway up the stairs the sounds of battle could be heard. Cassandra called it out.

"Who's fighting, your men?" Sael hollered back.

"You'll see soon." Cassandra took a small secret joy in not answering directly. "We must help them."

"Real fucking informative one you are, Seeker." Sael growled running up the last few stairs and toward the sounds of fighting.

Floating green crystal mass came into view just beyond a small wall holding back snow. Cassandra and Sael leapt down and charged into the fighting. The crystals in that made up the green mass jutted and retracted from itself to a rhythm Sael didn't have time to sort out. She quickly counted up the enemies and whoever was fighting back against the demons. Two fighting against, three shades. Sael barely caught a glimpse of the two fighting for their lives. Something struck her gut hard. Sael stomped a single foot into the snow, the call answered by more spikes. All three of which sprung branches of their own narrowly missing the defenders by a breath's width. Fragments fluttered away again.

"Quickly, before more come through!" A smooth male voice commanded. He snatched hold of Sael's hand and jerked it toward the crystal mass above.

Rift and mark connected. Sael felt the power surging to and from as if a loop acid and fire tore through as fast as dawn consumed night. The loop broke with a crashing sound and the rift was gone. Sael looked to the man who slowly released her wrist. A bald elf wrapped in green, brown and cream colored clothes. A mage's staff lowered in his other hand. His eyes shown like polished violet metal.

 

Sael's gut wrenched again, thing just became dramatically more interesting. 'Well, well...' she thought as he turned toward the pair approaching them. "What did you do?" She asked aloud.

"...I did nothing. The credit is yours." The elf smiled warmly enough, gesturing to her hand still glowing.

"I suppose." Sael stole a glance at Cassandra. The Seeker was staying on the fringes of personal space. "Though I think I have had enough of being given credit for today."

The elf merely nodded. "Whatever magic made the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand. I theorized the mark might be able to close rifts made in the Breach's wake." He gave a small pleased smile. "It would seem I was correct."

"A first in an age or two." Sael wore a sly smirk. The elf stilled, eye locked until Sael sighed. "Then again, I'm not expert on this sort of magic. I'll be the first to make a...mistake." She picked her words carefully. The elf released her from his attention.

Cassandra stepped up. "Meaning it could also close the Breach itself."

"Possibly."

Sael shifted her weight from leg to leg. More and more she was needing time to sort her thoughts. Time was rapidly becoming less available as more people were coming into play.

"It would seem you hold the key to our salvation." The elf returned to Sael.

"Good to know." A familiar voice sounded behind Sael. A dwarven male adjusted his sleeves, a massive crossbow slung to his back. "And here I thought we'd be ass-deep in demons forever."

"Varric Tethras." Sael beamed turning to face the dwarf. "I never took you for a power-bottom any day of the week."

"Sael Alas'en!" Varric boomed, arms raised to meet Sael, hands on each other's shoulder. "Maker's breath it has been too long. Last time I saw you I was ass-deep in darkspawn."

Sael and Varric hugged tightly for a moment, releasing and stepping back. "You scoundrel, what are you doing this far south in the Maker's taint?"

"Cleaning up messes the human's make." Varric shrugged, tugging his collar forward a bit. "Beats talking to my editor. You still-"

"Kicking around Thedas, yes." Sael finished and answered for the dwarf.

Varric's face darted between delight, confusion to understand. "Well, for now I'm an unwelcome tag-along." He winked at Cassandra.

The black haired warrior's upper lip curled into a practiced snarl. "..."

"Whelp," Varric clapped his hands together. "This just got juicy and you're gunna need my help in the valley."

Cassandra nearly cut between Varric and Sael. "Absolutely not. Your help is appreciated, Varric, but..."

"Have you been in the valley, Seeker." Varric ignored the muffled single snort from Sael. "Your soldiers aren't in control anymore." Varric closed the gap between them smirking at Cassandra. "You need me."

She tossed her hands out to her side shaking her head in annoyance. Cassandra couldn't argue against Varric's point.

The elf came up in place of the Seeker. "I am Solas, if there are to be introductions." He bowed his head slightly. "I am pleased to see you still live."

"Riight, we can use that for now." Sael waited till Cassandra was out of immediate earshot. "Solas, pleasure."

Solas' eyes narrowed at Sael before he chuckled quietly.

Varric shook his head. "He means 'I kept that mark from killing you while you slept'."

"Thank you." Sael mimicked the head bow given earlier. "I'm sure we'll talk at length about it later. Bit surprised you know so much about it."

"Unlike you, Solas is an apostate." Cassandra added, lingering at the edge again.

Solas barely managed to hide his annoyance. "Technically all mages are apostates now, Cassandra." He sighed. "My travels have allowed me to learn much about the Fade. Far beyond the experience of any Circle mage. I came to offer whatever help I can with Breach. If it is not closed, we are all doomed. Regardless of origin."

"All these living breathing bodies near the Breach and I am the one getting fitted for a noose." Sael crossed her arms over her chest. Varric patted the woman's back a couple times. "You going to be writing this crap down, Varric? Some good duffaloshit brewing here."

Varric raised an eyebrow and smirked.

"Cassandra." Solas called the Seeker's attention. "You should know the magic involved here is unlike anything I have seen before. Your prisoner is a mage, but I find it difficult for any mage having such power."

"Understood" Cassandra looked to into the distance. "We must get to the forward camp quickly."

Varric bumped Sael with his elbow. "Well, Bianca's excited."

"Me and her both." Sael pushed him back and followed after Solas and Cassandra.


	2. Chapter 2

They had moved on over a couple of planks and down the next set of stairs. More stairs, more frozen lakes and snow choked banks. Demons didn't lessen as they pushed on. Sael and Varric fought together, evidence of an older friendship and experience with each other in the way they moved around each other. Solas supported the group with barriers and ice magic covering any unintentional openings for shades and wraiths.

Sael's hand burned, light flickering off it. "...Going to have words with someone about this."

"You doing alright?" Varric stepped up to match pace with her on the most recent collection of stairs.

"All that you know and you're asking me if I'm alright." Sael sighed, raising her hand to glare at it. The slimmest of hopes that the displeased expression send the mark and all it's pain and annoyances running for the horizon. "Now I know I'm in trouble."

Varric rolled his shoulder bearing the brunt of Bianca's weight. "Well...are you innocent?"

The dwarf's turn to be glared at. "I honestly don't know what happened."

"Shoulda' spun a story." Varric shook his head, smirking toward the ground.

"That's what you would've done." Cassandra sounded from ahead of them.

"More believable and less prone to premature execution." Varric shrugged. He pulled Bianca forward, the crossbow readied at the sounds of demons ahead.

Eventually they found themselves at another large gate wedged between a foot of the nearby mountains and the wooden spikes lining a cliff's edge. Cassandra went through the double doors first, followed by Sael and Varric, lastly Solas in tow. Just beyond the door was a hastily fortified bridge. Tables and supplies scattered over the stone surface. Soldiers and men in red and white robes rushed back and forth. Cassandra went straight to a table with a lean older man in Chantry robes poured over papers. Flanking him was a slender tall woman. Chainmail robes in greys and browns. A purple grey robe draped partly over her head as a hood. Streaks of vibrant red hair peeked out from the hood.

The hooded woman stepped around toward Cassandra. "You made it." She turned to introduce the group. "Chancellor Roderick, this is-"

"I know who she is." Roderick nearly twisted his neck looking down his nose at Sael. "As Grand Chancellor of the Chantry, I hereby order you to take this criminal to Val Royeaux to face execution." He didn't change his expression when issuing his command to Cassandra.

"Order me?" Cassandra was flabbergasted. "You are a glorified clerk. A bureaucrat!" She hissed.

"And you are a thug." Roderick shot back. "But a thug who supposedly serves the Chantry."

The red head stepped up between the warrior and cleric. "We serve the Most Holy, chancellor, as you well know."

"Justinia is dead!" He raised his hands up in defense. "We must elect a replacement, and obey her orders on the matter." Roderick paced behind the table.

A loud groan from behind the argument. Sael put her hands to her hips. "The Breach. You have a giant fucking hole in the sky spiting demons everywhere and you're first order of business if a popularity contest?!" She snapped at Roderick.

"You brought this on us in the first place. You put that blasted hole in the sky!" Roderick's face was turning red, a stark contrast to the flat black and gold trimmed hat he wore. Cassandra stalked up the table, fingers placed just at the edge. "Call a retreat, Seeker."

Cassandra shook her head. "We can stop this before it's too late."

"How?" Roderick's tone changed to one pleading. "You won't survive long enough to reach the temple, even with all your soldiers." He sounded defeated and lost.

"We must get to the temple." Cassandra pressed, leaning onto the table. "It's the quickest route." She had Roderick cornered.

"But not the safest." The third woman cut in. She had been eyeing Sael and the others. "Our forces can charge as a distraction while we go through the mountains."

It was the Seekers turn to dispare. "We lost contact with an entire squad on that path. It's too risky."

They were divided, each of them seemed unwilling to compromise.

Roderick cupped his hands together, holding them out toward Cassandra. "Listen to me. Abandon this now before more lives are lost."

The Breach surged, the shockwave shaking ground and person alike. Sael's hand seized again, cramping as the light grew brighter for a moment. Those present focused on her as Cassandra came closer.

"How do you think we should proceed?" There was no anger or fear in her voice. It was the first time Sael had heard her simply speak.

Urges to be sarcastic and flaunt the change welled up immediately. Sael ignored them. "Honestly, you have a squad you know is in danger or dead up there. And I am not crazy about being on any front lines for humans."

"..." Cassandra turned her face just enough to finally notice the tips of pointed ears under deep red and brown hair. In fact, Cassandra had forgotten to really even look at Sael and not just her hand. The woman she had been traveling with was lean, thin but toughened muscle. Tall for an elf and far paler than most she had ever seen. There was no vallaslin on her face, which for all accounts seemed strange. Sael's eyes were the color of boulders and statues craved from stone walls. Deep in the mountains, a ways still from the Temple of Sacred Ashes, snow dominated the landscape. Varric, Solas, Cassandra and every other person were dressed for it. Sael though, was in simple loose grey pants and a modified black tunic as a shirt. Bandages wrapped her calves, ankles and feet. Open air toes wriggled on the bridge. "Very well."

A long hike up the mountains ledges, a literal and metaphorical walking on a knife's edge in places. They trekked through fresh snow and flurries until the group came up to a wooden ladder. Sael stepped back, craning her neck back to see how far the ladder would take them. Several wood platforms went up and disappeared into the thin clouds above.

"Really starting to miss my roads." Sael grumbled to what she believed was herself. The parties other mage, Solas, kept her words to himself.

Ladder after ladder they climbed. Varric and Sael both loudly complaining about the 'fantastic shit-show' they had both be flung to. The pair traded inside jokes only to have them punctuated by Cassandra's ionic groan of disgust. Solas, on the other hand, remained silent. Cassandra was a to the point, charge into battle head first sort of woman. Reasonable at times with a firm grip on her faith. Varric was no garden variety dwarf in the few days that Solas had come to know him. Author, conman by his own admission and long way of saying most anything. Still, he was a Child of the Stone and that blood ran deep.

Breach in the sky, a cluster of confused and angry assortment of humans, dwarves and Dalish elves, and what drops into his lap amidst all this chaos. A single elf woman with no vallaslin, nothing to identify a clan or even a land to which she might call home. A knowing look in her eye every single time he caught her looking at him. It was unsettling. Solas begun to prefer her unconscious and on the cell floor. This mortal physically stepped out of the Fade. Could the reports have been wrong? Why did she unsure when he gave his name? What was Varric going to say before she cut in to finish his sentence. The mark was rapidly becoming less interesting than the mystery woman it was branded on. Still, that look. That smug informed look on her face. Solas spent the remaining rungs of ladders retracing his memories for Sael's presence. Last platform before a building. No success.

Inside was wooden archways supporting the ceiling above. Cold air wafted through the rooms and halls no different than outside. Greater shades meandered within the rooms. Wraiths floated just out of their reach. Again the group fell on the demons like they had all the others before. Solas nearly being struck by a wraiths attack. He shook his focus from Sael and on the tasks at hand. It was slower through the mining building. Sael and Varric sifting through an occasional box of sack for loot. Cassandra kept in front of everyone and with little to say to the others, she seemed to be lost in work and thought. Solas lingered on the edges of Varric and Sael's voices in the hopes to catch something meant to be spoken in private.

"Roads," Varric called the elven woman quietly. "What's with the elf look? This the new persona?"

Sael chuckled under her breath. "Looking for a new character for a story? Feel free to use this visage." She tossed a small totem of a mabari aside. "Thousands of years and you think I keep the same face. Pegged you and Hawke as smarted than that."

"..." Varric smirked at her. "Come on Roads, it been long time. Do you have to start with busting my balls here? Any luck back home?"

"The Deep Roads can't just fix themselves with darkspawn running all over them." Sael dropped a sack and resumed walking with Varric. "Not like this is a great place to be talking about this anyhow."

Varric jutted a thumb out toward Cassandra. "What, the Seeker? What's she gunna do, go to the nearest darkspawn hole and slide down just to trash your doorstep? Please, who's the smart one here now?"

"Right, the Chantry woman gets tipped off about the spooky scary spirit lady and all the fun history we have." Sael patted Varric on the shoulder. "I'm sure she'll just take that in stride. When traveling with gods you should be careful to not blow cover."

"Wait, gods?" Varric nearly tripped over his own feet stopping that fast.

Sael merely pressed a finger to her lips and shushed.

"Andraste what have I gotten myself into..." Varric groaned.

They pushed on through the remainder of the building. Demons were thinning out as they continued. It took far longer than any of them would have liked but the stairs leading out finally were found. Sael slouched and moaned again, muttering about heights and openness in an annoyed tone. They all stopped short once they exited. On the stone platform just beyond the threshold laid three slain soldiers. Any joy, annoyances or disgust were silenced at the sight of the dead. Victims of the Breach and it's demons.

Varric lightly dusted bit of snow off the nearest one. "I guess we found the soldiers."

"That can't be all of them." Cassandra brushed flakes off another.

"So the others could be hold up ahead." Varric stood quickly. Hope returning to his voice.

Sael and Solas let a cold look slip between them. Solas spoke. "Our priority must be the Breach. Unless we seal it soon, no one is safe."

Varric held a hand out to Sael. "I'm leaving that to our leading lady here."

They raced down the snow and dirt path. The vortex connecting the Breach to the first rift swirled violently nearby. Close enough to taste metal in their mouths from the electric discharge of the energy channeled inside it. Far enough that the mark only buzzed and tingled in Sael's hand. Not close enough. As they ran down the slightly sloped path, the sounds of battle reached them. Weapons were drawn and magic primed. They had no idea what to expect. No clue what it was exactly that had detained the soldiers this far from the forward camp.

Soldiers, the remaining ones, had been trapped and attacked by demons and a single rift. With practiced coordination, the shades and wraiths were sent hurtling toward the crystal mass pulsing in the air above their heads. Unlike the previous rift, a second wave prepared itself. Green illuminated lights dotted the perimeter of the crystal mass until a new demon leapt forth. A spindle limb'ed demon rose twice everyone's height. It stalked forward, wildly swinging its claws at everything close to it. A portal of green swirling smoke opened beneath it. The demon dropped in and jumped out of another portal that formed beneath Sael and Solas. Had it not been for the male elf's barrier magic, claws would have raked flesh and fabric alike. Sael reached out from her side and took hold of a boulder perched on a nearby cliff. She retracted her arm quickly, the boulder followed suit. The envy demon crushed beneath it before fragmenting back to the rift itself. Solas wasn't needed for the next step. Sael threw her marked hand toward the rift and made a fist. Mark and rift connected, energy surged between her and it. It exploded close.

Solas lowered his staff. "Sealed, as before. You're becoming quite proficient at this."

"Let's hope it works on the big one." Varric added, nodding approval at Sael.

"Doubting me already." Sael shook her marked hand. "Such little faith, Varric."

Varric shrugged, looking at the Breach above. "Calling it like I see it, Roads."

"Thank the Maker you finally arrived," A female soldier sighed in relief as Cassandra helped her to her feet. "I don't think we could have held out much longer."

"Thank the prisoner, lieutenant." Cassandra refused to take undue credit. "She insisted we come this way.

"The prisoner?" The soldier turned to Sael. "Then you..."

Sael waved the woman's words off. "It was worth it, but don't thank me yet. We aren't done yet."

"The way behind us is clear for the moment." Cassandra pointed up the hill they had come from. "Go. While you still can."

Soldiers had already started inching that way before the Seeker's information was given. With confirmation, they ran. The party gathered together.

"It seems the path ahead appears to be clear of demons as well." Solas offered, he leaned against his staff.

Sael only nodded and went ahead. Cassandra and Varric followed after the elven woman. Further down a path lead them to a ladder going down. Sael internally groaned. Grabbing either side, she slide down the length of it. The others mimicked the descent. Another and they found themselves on snow covered planks making a path down yet another hill. Had it not been for her new traveling companions, Sael would have considered this one of the most monotone strolls of her life. Given her home, it was quiet a feat to achieve.

"So holes in the Fade don't just accidentally happen, right?" Varric asked Solas.

"If enough magic is brought to bear, it is possible."

"But there are easier ways to make things explode."

"That is true."

Cassandra pushed ahead. "We will consider how this happened after the immediate danger is past."

Through the flurries of snow intelligent construction started to show. It was a ruined entrance of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Immediately following the walls and pillars was monolithic jagged rocks protruding from the ground. Fade rift green tracing the magically twisted rocks like veins. Weapons were drawn. Bits of wall and other stone structures stuck up from the charred black ground. Small fires still burned in places. Everything they could attribute to the temple looked as if it had been blindly thrown into the air not caring where the pieces landed. Smoke and the smell of burnt death lingered in the air. There was little to nothing left of the temple but jagged rock walls like the teeth of a great beast and broken bits of civilization.

A dimly light wall was the largest piece to survive thus far. Cassandra stopped to stare at it. "this is where you stepped out of the Fade and our Soldiers found you."

"And some unknown woman behind me." Sael quietly finished the tale. "I remember you saying as much about it."

Once past the way there was a shared regret in having done so. Just ahead was two humanoid shaped statues, green flame flickering on parts of them. They gripped their heads in anguish. Another on it's knees trapped eternally in mid-scream. Victims of the explosion at the conclave. As further, just past a fresh body of a soldier was the only path forward. The remains of the temples halls lead them to open courtyard. Fire blasted away anything living leaving it to be a burnt husk with the sole occupant being a massive rift floating in it's center. The group stopped at the decorative banister across from it.

Looking up at the Breach filling the sky they could see. Swirling green and white lights ever moving to a pulse perhaps it's own design. Varric was the first to stop gawking. "Breach is a looong way up."

Footsteps and a voice came from behind everyone. "You're here. Thank the Maker."

"Yes, thank him because he's doing a lot right now." Sael growled, not so much as turning away from the Breach. Everything she could do to reach the hole had volumes of problems all on their own.

"Liliana," Cassandra ignored Sael. "Have your men take up positions around the temple." She left without a word with the soldiers to be placed. Cassandra came over to the Sael. "This is your chance to end this. Are you ready?"

"In all my years, this is fairly new to me." Sael shook an angry hand at the Breach. "How do you plan on getting me anywhere close to up there?"

Solas shook his head. "No." He pointed to the rift across from them. "This rift was the first, and it is the key. Seal it, and perhaps we seal the Breach."

"Then let's find a way down." Cassandra glanced over her shoulder at the others. "And be careful."

Two steps further in a voice echoed through the air. "Now is the hour of our victory. Bring forth the sacrifice."

"What are we hearing?" Cassandra tried to mask the fear creeping into her voice.

Sael froze mid-step. That voice only ever belonged to one creature. One being that she loathed above all others that the whole world nearly fell into oblivion when she heard it. He was suppose to be dead by the Champion of Kirkwall's hand. Sael risked a panicked look at Varric, he was sheet white. She gathered her nerve and kept silent. There was still no knowing wither she trusted Cassandra and Solas enough to tell them anything. With or without memories, the events at the conclave were getting easier to piece together.

"At a guess: the person who created the Breach." Solas answered as best he could.

They moved between the rocks looking for a way down when Varric grabbed Cassandra and pulled her back from something. "You know this stuff is red lyrium, Seeker."

Cassandra did what she could to soften the edge in her tone. "I see it, Varric." Every syllables in his name was clear as ice.

Varric backed away from the red lyrium crystals. They were bigger than he was and a soft melody hummed from them. "But what's it doing here?"

Solas stopped and came back to the group shifting nervously around the offending lyrium deposit. "Magic could have drawn from lyrium from beneath the temple. Corrupted it."

"...Not good anyway you paint it." Sael was first to break away from the pause.

The group opted not to remain huddled around the warmth generating lyrium any longer. Sael looked nearly as worried as Varric about the red crystals nestled between explosion blasted rocks. They made their way through the more recognizable parts of the temple. Winding around corners and down stairs till came to the last hop down toward the rift. A massive jagged pillar or red and black rock speared toward the Breach above them. The rift churned and pulsed just on the other side of it. Long swirling sheets of green sheen waved into a motionless air from the rift. Sael leveled a determined glare at it all. The mark flared bright again as if it were responding to the magic nearby.

"...someone, help me..." A woman's voice echoed all around them.

"What's going on here?" Sael's voice quickly followed through the echo.

Cassandra couldn't stop her mouth from falling open. "That was your voice. Most Holy called out to you. But..."

Sael spoke to the warrior over her shoulder. "I haven't the faintest clue why or memory of that." Cassandra looked unconvinced. "Right now, your guess is as good as mine."

Light consumed everything, receding just as quickly to reveal the Divine held up before a tall and oddly shaped figure shrouded in black. A clawed hand outstretched holding something not defined in the vision. A translucent double of Sael came briskly up to the pair repeating the words already heard.

Divine Justinia looked to the transparent Sael. "Run while you can! Warn them!"

"We have an intruder." The shadowed mass said in a disinterested tone. "Slay the elf." A long talon pointed out Sael's echo.

Light burst again and the vision and it's actors vanished. Cassandra, again, was the first to react. "You were there! Who attacked?" She paced back and forth, throwing angry glances at Sael. "And the Divine, is she...? Was this vision true? What are we seeing?"

"Are you having trouble understanding the words that are coming out of my mouth?!" Sael snapped stepping up into Cassandra's face. "Should I try ancient Elven, dwarven? I. Don't. Remember!" She clipped each word off hard.

"Echoes of what happened here." Solas explained in the hopes it would cool the Seeker and prisoner's tempers. "The Fade bleeds into this place." He turned to see Cassandra storming her way over. "This rift is not sealed, but it is closed...albeit temporarily." Sael approached much slower from behind. "I believe that with the mark, the rift can be opened, and then sealed properly and safely. However, opening the rift will likely attract attention from the other side."

"Didn't need to be opened in the first place to do that..." Sael grumbled behind a hand wiping dirt from her face.

"That means demons." Cassandra twisted about to speak to the soldiers creeping unwillingly around a collection of red lyrium. "Stand ready." They drew weapons and with renewed courage, approached.

Sael connected with the rift as she had the others. Power and energy surged as before, though with greater intensity this time. The rift cracked open with a blaring hiss, light shooting off it beyond the soldiers at the fringes of the to-be fight. A pride demon roared and chortled into existence. A massive demon of a emotion that had existed since the beginning of creation. Layered gray plates covered ost of it's body, spiked frills framed it's arms and legs. Bared sharp teeth filled it's mouth. Nine illuminated black eyes spaced across it's forehead while four curved horns crowned the back of it's head. It landed with a knee into the basted courtyard. Lightning rippling along it's hide. Cassandra declared the fight just as it stood straight.

Pride stomped everywhere it went. Varric and Solas scrambled to find a vantage point that would be the most useful for them. Cassandra charged into the demon's legs and found herself locked in combat along side three other soldiers. Leliana remained perched on a catwalk firing arrows on Pride. This wasn't a simple impale and go fight for Sael. Effort was going to be needed.

'Foot slipping on the pebbles. Tumbling into the darkness. Hitting something hard and unforgiving. Why must it hurt? Why does it welcome me. Soothing, crushing, the cold little knives roll across skin as sand moves between them.'

Chunks of the courtyard gravitated to Sael, collecting and coating themselves along her arms. Sael called for more, drawing in sharp bladed rocks and bits of wall. She willed them to move faster as her fist opened to stone covered claws to smash into the demon's inner thigh. It staggered, face flinching a moment before immediately honing in on the elf woman. Sael rammed stone and magic again into Prides limbs before a golden barrier flickered over it. A whip of lightning ripped across everyone within reach.

"Disrupt the rift!" Solas hollered to Sael. "It should break his shield!"

There was no need to tell her twice. She put her arm out, defending with her other coated in rubble and rocks. Even beneath the earthen armor the rift and mark connected. A crack erupted sending Pride to it's knees. Sael and Cassandra resumed their assault on the demon with refreshed vigor. Alternating between waves of attacks and defending to surge the rift eventually led to victory. Pride dissolved just the same as the wraiths, shades and the envy demons.

Demon gone and rift ready to be closed, Sael attempted again. She poured every ounce of energy she had left into that connection. She could feel her body threatening to give out. Sael bite her lower lip hard enough to bead blood and give her the fifth wind she needed to finish this. Everyone watched the rift with baited breath, each praying in their own ways to whom ever they cherished that this would work.

Resulting explosion sent the wisp of green rocketing straight up, like fire on a wick, to the Breach. Blue light radiated from the epicenter till it faded into nothing. Everything was visible for miles as the rift slammed closed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tevinter Whisper is a play on the game Chinese Whispers

Clamoring beyond the void of blackness called to Sael. There was nothing but pain and aching in ways she had long since forgotten. Something soft and warm held her in place while everything else felt like it was caught in a ocean storm. Eyes cracked open to find a unfamiliar ceiling above her. Logs laid side by side chalked together. Planks lined the same way next to her, a pillow creeping into her eyesight.

A pillow?

Sael shot up on the bed, groaning and doubling over slightly in pain. A surprised yelp from within the room drew her attention. Another elf scrambling to pick up the spilled contents of a small crate.

"I didn't know you were awake, I swear!" She panicked in a hushed voice.

Sael looked around to see if there was someone else in the room. Someone scarier looking than she was. It was just her and the other elf. "Breath." She suggested with caution. "I'm not going to rip your throat out for waking me up." Sael glanced around the room again. "Too be honest I should've been awake earlier. Not used to passing out."

The elf collapsed to her knees, nearly banging her forehead against the carpet covered stone floor. "I beg your forgiveness and your blessing. I am but a humble servant." She pleaded like it was her life on the chopping block.

"My blessings are worth about as much as burning bag of mabari shit up here," Sael scooted to sit on the edge of the bed. "I'm also not to crazy about any elf bowing to me. It's not right or fair."

She remained prostrate on the floor, silent.

"Stand up, for the love of a decent meal." Sael stood from the bed and pulled the servant to her feet. "Just tell me, where are we?"

"You are back in Haven, my Lady." The servant trembled violently in Sael's hand. "They say you saved us. The Breach stopped growing." She stepped back a hair. "Just like the mark on your hand." She refused to look at Sael's palm as the marked elf inspected it. "It's all anyone has talked about for the last three days."

"It's progress at lea-" Sael's head snapped up. "Three days, I have been asleep for three days?! And to make it worse, everyone is happy with me?!"

The servant was startled, "I'm only saying what I heard. I didn't mean anything by it." She backed away closer to the door. "I'm certain Lady Cassandra would want to know you've awakened. She said, 'At once.'."

"Where is she?"

A hand on the door's latch. "In the Chantry, with the Lord Chancellor. 'At once.' she said." There wasn't time to assure or question the servant any more, she bolted out the door.

There was nothing to do about it. Sael groaned, turning in circles. She sat hard on the side of the bed. This was a cottage, a small house in the surface world. This wasn't her world. It was one she had been subjected to far more times than she would have ever wanted in her life. Surfacers were accustom the brilliant star in the sky, shining until a more gentle celestial body took it's place. Still, neither loomed over her home. Wooden planks and beams replaced cold stone and stalagmites pointing every direction. Dirt cushioned beneath boots in place of the giant slabs of unwavering rocks. The wind ripped across skin in stead of the soft caresses of a breeze that guided you onward. Lakes reflected the expansive sky. Sael's heart ached for the waters that mirrored gem'ed ceilings. There was shelter in the crevasses of of caverns. Best she could hope for on the surface was a thick tree or a unfriendly cliff's wall.

Sooner done, sooner home, she repeated to herself. Pushing herself up she shoved the cabin's door abruptly. Immediately she wanted to retreat. Soldier and workers lined the pathway leading deeper into Haven. Sael quickly buried the scowl she felt coming, it wouldn't have been helpful anyway. She nodded kindly at those who called out to her. The people whispered among each other, calling her the Herald of Andraste. Sael felt her skin crawl. A human deity and she was to be the voice of her. Sael wondered how fast they would try to put her to a pyre for cleansing fire if they knew the truth.

Haven was a quaint town, fortified but a town none the less. Merchants stood by stalls picking at their nails waiting for a customer. Servants emptied chamber pots over spiked log lined walls. Patrols made their rounds quietly eyeing everything that caught their attention. At the furthest reach of Haven was the Chantry, the largest and most opulent building in Haven. Religion taking the seat of power in the town. Sael didn't mask a sneer at the structure. All to often she had seen people of religion, zealots, committing acts of horror all in the name of their Gods and faith. She had been around long enough that a hard look at any of these so-called Gods would reveal them as lairs or simply excessively powerful. Very few had ever denounced the title. Sael gently made her way in past gathering faithful and Chantry sisters.

Inside was a high vaulted ceiling, beams running back and forth, crossing themselves to support the building. Torches and doors lined the walls and pillars. At the end was a single door. Voice could be heard beyond it. Sael took a deep breath before stepping in.

"Chain her!" Chancellor Roderick barked nearly as soon as the door cracked open. "I want her prepared for travel to the capital for trial.

The chancellor was flanked by Cassandra, leaning over a large table littered with papers and books. The red head, Leliana sat a bottle down on it and nodded a silent greeting toward Sael.

"Disregard that, and leave us." Cassandra countered the cleric. The soldiers tapped fist against their armor and left with a curt nod.

Roderick stepped around the table to glare at the warrior. "You walk a dangerous line, Seeker."

Cassandra wasn't intimidated by the holy man. "The Breach is stable, but it is still a threat. I will not ignore it."

Sael lazily swung an arm toward Roderick. "Ignore him." she caught the chancellor's redirected glare. "No, I'm serious. You are wasting everyone's time going on about trials and women in horrible hats."

Leliana and Cassandra raised twin eyebrows. Roderick looked as if someone had just painted Andraste naked in the middle of a sermon.

"You are just some Dalish upstart!" Roderick hissed.

"Have a care, chancellor." Cassandra stepped between the two, her back to Sael. "The Breach is not the only threat we face."

Leliana joined. "Someone was behind the explosion at the Conclave. Someone Most Holy did not expect." She held her wrist behind her, leaning against the table. "Perhaps they died with the other." The spymaster shrugged, sighing softly. "Or have allies who yet...live." A darker expression fell on Roderick.

"I am a suspect?"

"Just because you're religious doesn't mean you're above suspicion." Sael came over to sit on the table. A boot to the ground and one on the table. She leaned along the raised leg, chin resting on her knee.

"You. And many others." Leliana growled.

Roderick was nearing a fit of rage. "But not the prisoner."

Sael fell back onto the table. "Fuck's sake." She tossed the nearest book at the cleric. "I am going to make you into my reason for getting a real trial if you keep this shit up!"

The chancellor's face twisted on the sour accusations. "So her survival, that thing on her hand" He glowered at the group of women. "All a coincidence?"

"Providence." Cassandra cut back.

Sael scoffed shaking her head. "Wooow" She muttered under her breath, making her mouth with a convenient nearby cup of water. The addition wasn't unnoticed by Cassandra and Leliana. They choose to let it pass without comment.

"The Maker sent her to us in our darkest hour." Cassandra stood straighter, squaring her shoulders back. Proudly defending Sael.

The elf woman sputtered in the cup, ragged coughs to clear the water from her lungs. "Don't put that noose around my neck. I'm not prepared to stand up on a pyre." She gently dropped the cup back where she found it. "I'm not human. The Maker sending me to you guys is a huge..."

"You are exactly what we needed when we need it." Cassandra shifted defense to herself. "Regardless what you believe."

Sael put her hands open out toward the others. "...Religion..." Her smile was everything but pleased.

"The Breach remains." Leliana nodded. "And you mark is still our only hope of closing it."

Roderick uncrossed his arms, his ire turning on the spymaster. "This is not for you to decide." He rallied himself.

Sael stood from the table. "You know what, no matter what I think," She smiled darkly at the other two woman before turning an even darker expression on Roderick. "I'll gladly be the Herald of Andraste if only to fuck up you day just a bit more."

The Seeker returned to the table with a tomb easily four inches thick. Edged and bound in metal clasps. Papers poking out between the pages. The deep red leather cover and an embossed seal of the inquisition on the upper half. Cassandra dropped it harshly and with all the authority she had accumulated in her lifetime. A finger jabbed to the cover. "You know what this is, Chancellor?" She glared at the man. Cassandra's voice filled with admiration, pride and an air of command. "A writ from the Divine, granting us the authority to act."

Sael noticed Leliana and Roderick both stiffen up, albeit for wholly different reasons.

"As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn." Cassandra stormed toward Roderick. The Chancellor backed away in equal steps. "We will close the Breach. We will find those responsible, and we will restore order. With or without your approval." The Seekers words were as sharp and expertly wielded as her own sword. Every sentence punctuated with a finger rapt against Roderick's chest.

Roderick looked between the two other women beyond the Seeker. Neither were rushing to his defense, much less argue against Cassandra. He turned and left in a silent fury.

Leliana approached the book, caressing the cover. "This is the Divine's directive: rebuild the Inquisition or old." She smiled at the book like one would an old friend. "Find those who will stand against the chaos." Lingering near the book with Sael and Cassandra. "We aren't ready. We have no leader, no numbers and now no Chantry support."

"Chantry out isn't a problem for me." Sael clipped coldly. "Really doubt an imaginary man in the sky is going to have the best communication skill. Clerics do too much talking for him for my liking."

"We have no choice." Cassandra wasn't thrilled with Sael's dismissive views of the Chantry, but it wasn't her or anyone's place to make the elf woman change. "We must act now." She turned to Sael secretly praying to Andraste this wasn't all about to explode in their faces. "With you at our side."

"..." Sael's face was impassive as she searched Cassandra's and Leliana's for something to betray a trap or lie. She found nothing but hope and sincerity. "...Alright." She sighed heavily. "Let's see where this freakshow is headed. My home is in just as much danger as yours."

Cassandra's shoulders relaxed a bit. "Help us fix this before it's too late." She offered her hand toward Sael in good faith. She smiled as Sael clasped it and shook.

"Looks like things are gunna get more lively around here." Varric chucked another fistful of sticks into the fire. He glanced over at Solas, pouring over another book. The dwarf leaned back a bit further on his log to spy the contents of the elf's book. He caught a few extremely familiar words. "Hard in Hightown, Chuckles?!" He exclaimed. 

Solas's eyes barely moved from page to dwarf. "The library here is rather lacking and I couldn't find anything more suitable to read.

Varric hadn't remembered the book being as thick as the one in Solas's hands. He leaned forward to see the cover. It was a different book. "Why is it open on top of another open book?" He was puzzled, at the same time, dreaded the answer.

"I find the other more comfortable in my hands." Solas answered quietly. "I'm still unsure if I'm enjoying this. I am finding several consistencies in Donnen Brennokovic behavior and mannerism. Still, it's quaint."

"Tell me how you really feel, Chuckles." Varric laughed off the criticism. "This whole thing is starting out like a story."

Solas closed both books and turned slightly towards the dwarf. "Things have become rather alarming." He looked to the sky, several more ravens soar overhead. "A calamity in the sky..."

"Heroes arriving my miracles," Varric added. "People praising the 'Herald of Andraste' and still no answers."

"A grim and realistic assessment of the situation for an author." Solas cracked a smirk.

Varric matched the elf. "Come on, authors see plenty to know when shit's about to hit the fan."

"True."

"Still," Varric picked up another stick at his feet, breaking it apart before feeding it to the fire. "That woman falls out of the Fade and gets thrown to the wolves the moment she wakes up. Got to wonder how she's holding up."

Solas nodded, turning his attention on the fire. "Perhaps you should check in on her if you are so concerned. You two seem familiar with each other back on the mountain."

"Pleas, Chuckles, I pegged you a clever man." Varric chuckled, pawing at the back of his neck. "We've bumped into each other once or twice. But I can't quiet speak her language."

"Oh?"

Varric waved him off. "I-I can't explain it. Try for yourself." He grinned at Solas, his eyes gleamed mischievously.

Solas instantly got the notion that the dwarf was hiding something from their conversation. In the short time he had come to know Varric, he knew asking was a fruitless effort. The dwarf was a author after all and could make nearly any answer sound plausible. "I suppose it couldn't hurt." He rose from his seat on the log and headed off toward the cabin Sael occupied.

There was no answer at the first knock, or the second. Solas lightly pounded with the side of his fist the third time. Sael cracked the door open, a single eye peering toward him. He noticed she wasn't actually looking at him, merely facing his direction, her mind must have been elsewhere. A long second passed between them before she acknowledged the elf at her door.

"Solas, was it?" Sael spoke plainly. "Perfect timing, I want your help with something."

He didn't get a chance to agree or refuse, Sael pulled him into the cabin. He readjusted his sleeve once released inside. "How can I be of assistance?"

"I need to duck out of here and we need to talk anyway." Sael was stuffing the bed with pillows and clothing. It slowly formed the shape of a slender body under the blankets.

"You're escaping?" Solas asked with a accusing tone and sneer.

Sael still worked on the bed. "Escaping implies I am held against my will. I'm here by choice now, but..." She finally turned to Solas. "Everything has been incredibly overwhelming and I need to clear my head. I could use company."

"Cassandra, Leliana, or any of the soldiers here would gladly"

Sael scoffed loudly and shook her head. "Yeah...uhm...Where and what I need to do isn't something they could really handle at the moment."

"Varric?" Solas offered another again. "He seems apt at acts of rebellion and reckless abandon."

"Is that what you think this..." Sael cut herself off. "No. Solas, only you and strictly because we need to have a talk that I am far beyond sure you don't want others in on."

"How can you be so sure?" He asked. Solas made himself acutely aware of all possible exits and potential weapons in the room. Considering the magic she used before, he wasn't sure he could spot anything she would do. Fire always shimmered before use. Electricity smelled of burnt coal before hand. Ice always drew in a cold breeze. Summoning the very ground to hurl rocks and act as armor. He needed more information before making predictions.

"Alright." Sael's voice became cold. "...'Do not paint me a God, I am of the People and would tear down false Gods who shackle you'..." She saw the elf's breathing slow to point of nearly nonexistent.

Solas nodded once. "Very well."

Snow whirled around Sael and Solas as they moved deeper into the Frostback Mountains. He had voiced concerns about the weather and safety once or twice but was answered with a determined silence. The map was consulted several times before Sael turned them off the charted paths and into a ravine between daunting cliffs at the foot of the mountain. Solas mimicked her path step for step to save from some unsavory fate befalling him. He watched as Sael took a sharp turn right into a mountain wall. Sael gently pressed her hand into the snow up to her elbow. Cold white fell way as a great octagonal door rolled to the side to unleash a warm gust thick and heavy air at the pair. She neither turned or spoke to Solas as she crossed the door's threshold onto a wide stone slab extending into the darkness beyond. Solas couldn't attribute the reason he followed solely to curiosity or a carnal need for warmth emitting from within.

Further inside, the stone door roll back over the entrance leaving both elves alone in the all consuming blackness. Light glowed in the depths of the blackened world. Solas had to squint to make anything out, soon enough his eyes adjusted to the change of worlds. Geometric shapes lined the cavern walls on either side of the seemingly endless slab of stone. A decorative wall rose only a foot on both sides of the slabs, dwarven art carved into it. Red, blues and purple glass shown in the distance. Paragons of old towered, their anvils holding the lofty ceiling in place above.

"The Deep Roads." Solas barely managed above a whisper. "...How..." He couldn't finish.

Sael took a loud deep breath of the Road's air. She seem to rejuvenate in the death laden paths. She dropped to her knees, leaning forward to run her hands and arms along the stone of the road. Ignoring the elf behind her gripping his staff tighter than before.

"Drumming. Drumming." Sael's voice crept into the air between them. She had made her way to the edge of Solas's sight. "Drumming, thundering footfalls. Winding darkness, follow the roads. All roads lead to home. Home is all the roads, infested and sullied. Still they lead to home. So many voices. So many stories." Sael hid her tears in the dirt beneath her. "I have suffered too much above. Come to ground, come home and breath deep." She took another deep breath, rolling onto her back. "Thank you."

Solas ventured a few calculated steps forward toward Sael. "Are you...thanking me?"

Sael sat up suddenly, a beaming peaceful smile. "Yes, I needed this." She rose, the dirt un-brushed from her clothing and scrapes of armor. "Solas, what do you see?"

"The Deep Roads."

"No." Sael looked hard at him. "Look at me and tell me, what do you see."

Solas frowned. "If you're going to ask me, what my 'elf eyes see' I will hurl myself from this ledge."

"Hardly a time for levity." Sael shook her head.

"..."

Sael put her hands to hips and kept her focus on the mage. "Well? Don't sugar-coat it."

Solas raised a intrigued eyebrow. "Very well." He let himself relax and dismiss the lurking presence of the deep roads fall away. He stared at Sael until he sensed something out of place around her. The elf woman in front of him almost seem to shift her shape. One second another female elf with a vallaslin of June across her face. Next a stout dwarf male. Another a qunari and then a humanoid species he didn't recognize. "I can't...explain what I am seeing."

"Look beyond the faces." Sael pressed.

Again he focused, a swirling grey light splashed with red begun to consume her shape. He felt the pressure of thousands of feet of earth above and untold depths of space below. Jagged rocks ground into shape along pathways. Stones burying bodies and absorbing the blood. The only beings he had encountered in his life that formed like this were spirits. Wisdom, truth, command, demons of Pride, fear and rage. A spirit.

"You're a spirit?" Solas carefully labeled the woman who resumed the shape of Sael. "But you possessed no person. Then again..." He searched her essence again. "There is a touch of flesh and blood life in you."

"A spirit is correct." Sael smiled nodding. She raised a single finger to him. "But the tricky part before we have our little talk."

Solas took an unintentional step backward. "And that is?"

"Spirit of what?" Sael asked, her voice slinking through her question like a snake through a bowl of bright colored fruits.

"..." Solas prided himself on being an expert on spirits. Forever learning and searching the Fade for more. This one in front of him was defying several concepts he deemed rules. Her use of magic, the changeable appearance and the presence of a soul within. Her very existence was challenging him. He suddenly recalled how she behaved when they entered in the deep roads. He had to commit to his flash theory. "You are the spirit of the Deep Roads. How and your goals though are lost on me."

Sael stayed in her elf form, taking a seat on the edge of the road. Her feet dangled over the edge, looking over into the gaping maw of the roads. "Correct, and I'm sure you are wondering why I am even telling you this." She patted the stone next to herself for him to sit.

Solas took the offer and sat, legs remaining crossed up on the stone. "It would be a poor summary of what I am thinking, but in short, yes."

"For every soul that steps into the Deep Roads. So much as breath here and you leave a piece of yourself in it." Sael begun. "No different than walking into a feasting hall you're not welcome in, you change the entire place even if just for a moment. No one who heard would forget you were there though."

"Your point?"

Sael let her feet kick slightly, rocking ever so gently where she sat. She smiled sadly. "It's dark. So dark, we are lost but she hasn't lost us. Chasing, fleeing, turn and hide. Hush the young ones, cries bring death. Don't let her hear. Mythal, please let these stones spare us. Why now, what has happened?"

Solas's face drained of all color. "How do you know about that?"

"Take a breath in the deep roads and they never forget you. Hide here an hour, sling wares for a week and the roads know you. Live here and there isn't anything you can hide from it. The things muttered in the dark when you think no one else is around to hear you." Sael explained.

"The Deep Roads knows." Solas understood. This woman was the spirit of the Deep Roads. Taken shape for whatever reason it had come up with. "You know me?" He asked cautiously.

Sael still gazed down at the roads beneath her feet. "Probably one of the few who remembers Fen'Harel as elvhen and not a trickster god. The Dalish has twisted you in a long game of Tevinter Whispers."

Solas felt his stomach pitch against his spine, his knuckles whitened as he gripped his staff. "Fen'Harel is just a Dalish story, no one knows who the bases of the legend is."

The spirit shot him a scathing glare. "Don't try to play the sheep's clothing with me, Dread Wolf. I know who I'm talking to." She chuckled once. "I even teased you about in when we met with Varric."

"I see." Solas returned the chuckle with one of his own. "And what do you plan to do with this information?"

She turned her gaze back into the depths. "Depends, I guess, on what you're up to these days. Can't say I'm fond of the state of the world. Her face turned sour at the sight of darkspawn milling on a road several leagues below. "I want my home back. What about you?"


	4. Chapter 4

Sael led Solas through the Deep Roads. Pathways unmarked on any map he had ever seen became painfully obvious. Boulders and earth that had blocked others sank back with a simple gesture. In the Deep Roads, Sael was undeniable and seemingly all powerful. It was after all, her home. She walked ahead of Solas with a confidence he hadn't seen on the surface. It was strangely comforting. A nostalgia that struck him to the core. A comfortable, confident command that followed nearly every single ancient elvhen. He traded reminiscence one memory for another. The pleading prayer, his own. Himself and a group of kin fleeing from a spell of Andruil's madness. Mythal's vallaslin branded on the other's faces had apparently been an unspoken insult to the self proclaimed goddess of the Hunt. Solas recalled rapid wheezing breaths, back pressed to the Deep Roads door. Families and kin cowering in the shadows and monolithic statues. Had the door remained open a minute longer, Andruil would've likely found them and slaughtered them all. He had lived over eight centuries and in those many years, learned one unbroken truth: coincidence didn't exist.

"The name Varric called you by, on the mountain." Solas had managed to relax in the fabled dwarven pride and joy. "Sael Alas'en, it's an fitting name for a spirit of the Deep Roads. First World."

"...'The' spirit of the Deep Roads, there are no others with that claim." Sael parted another wall of rock and earth. "I didn't take a name when I first took a physical shape. Sael Alas'en was given to my by the first soul to give me reason to stay for a time."

Solas nearly tripped as he processed the explanation. "I see, so does that give rise to other spirits of places. One of Thedas itself? Por Vollen?" He paused as they slipped parallel to a darkspawn patrol on another road. Cleared he continued. "What made you stay? It must have been important to allow it to name you."

"Thedas I met, they are completely disinterested with the fate of the peoples crawling over their lands. Por Vollen, he's very much what you'd expect, save for the fact he's split between a Kossith and a dragon in eternal battle." She stopped finally at a much smaller door in a stone paved ceiling. "I stayed because I met the Dwarves, though the first of them didn't name me Sael. But by then, the Stone had become deaf to them. Cares less for her grandchildren, and more for her children suffering still to this day."

"Children and grandchildren?"

Sael roughly rapt the side of her fist against the door, popping loose a faux set of stones. She climbed up by the ledge. Turning to offer a hand and answer. "Titans came first, and then dwarves. Come, we need to resume performances since we're back."

Solas couldn't reply, merely took her hand and clamored up into the basement level of the Chantry in Haven. "...How..."

"All roads lead to the Deep Roads." Sael shrugged with a smile. "The show must go on Old Wolf."

Silence took the woman's place. Solas was left gathering himself in the dimly lit musty basement.

Crisp sharp air filled her lungs. Sael wandered around the town of Haven. eventually settling for a seat next to Varric. The author dwarf and Sael spoke in facial expressions. Questions and sly answers traded back and forth till she sighed and stretched.

"I told Solas." Sael prodded the fire with a thick branch.

Varric scoffed and let a smirk fill half his face. "I figured as much. You two were gone for nearly two days. Thought Seeker's head was going to explode."

Sael elbowed him hard. "As if I would miss that. I'm sure you'll manage that without me though."

"How'd Chuckles take it, Shortcut?"

Sael groaned and dropped her head. "I bail you and Hawke out of a swarm of darkspawn and lead you and your little caravan out, and you think you can pin a nickname on me?"

"It's endearing."

A shrug. "You got me there, Footnote."

"That hurts." Varric feigned injury. The two shared a quiet laugh. "Alright, seriously, how'd he take it. Not like that is easy to drop on anyone."

"In perfect stride, for a elf obsessed with the Fade and spirits." She leaned shoulder to shoulder with Varric. "Will make dealing with this glowing duffaloshit, Breach and memory gap much easier."

"Fair." Varric stilled to let the spirit elf relax. He knew full well the weight the surface world had on her. "Chantry has been busy. Apparently we got Cullen, Knight-Commander from Kirkwall and a sun-blessed Antiva woman in as advisors."

Sael sat up, twisting her face in confusion. "Did you really have to go with sun-blessed?"

Varric balked. "What?! Should I compare her to coffee? Moist dirt?" He shook his head. "Those just sound tacky and would ruin my reputation."

"Sword and Shields did that already." Sael winked at him. "Fine, you're the author here. Just don't come crying to me when she comes at you with a stack of your unanswered mail."

"You're a cruel and spiteful strip of road, Shortcut."

"Yeah, yeah." Sael smiled wrapping an arm around his head and firmly planting a friendly kiss a top his head. "You know you'd be bored without me." She stood to go and check in with Cassandra and Leliana.

"I could do with some more boredom in my life, to be honest." Varric called after Sael. A hand raised was the only reply he got.

Cassandra had yelled and scowled Sael for vanishing for two days. Pacing back and forth, ranting about the importance of the elf's life and how just disappearing was putting the entire world in danger. The Seeker's scar becoming more and more defined as her face went deeper shades of red. Sael lost track of time halfway through the sermon, only knowing that it was excessive when her legs started to ache. Sael ended it with promising to not wander off again, at least not without someone with her. Sael watched Cassandra relax and groaned again when called 'mom' by the elf woman.

Side by side they walked into the Chantry, Cassandra first to break their silence when Sael stole a moment to look at her marked hand. "Does it trouble you?"

"Eager for absence and answers." Sael shook the hand in the vain hope it'd shake loose.

"In time." Cassandra nodded. "What's important is your mark is now stable, as is the Breach. You've given us time. Solas believes a second attempt might succed." The Seeker looked at the glowing brand. "Provided the mark has more power."

Sael's face scrunched a bit.

"The same level of power used to open the Breach in the first place." Cassandra fidgeted with a gloved hand. "That is not easy to come by."

"Sure, sure." Sael rolled her eyes, head shaking against the idea. "Same power to open it will close it, but that is really something no one should have. Good or evil."

"Good and evil are extremes few can afford. Our cause is to help those just living their lives from not being destroyed by demons. I believe we are just in this." Cassandra defended.

The makeshift war room was the very same that Roderick had stormed out of after been reminded his place in the world. Sael was never one to care what a person was, Qun to elf, human, male or female. She simply loathed assholes. Chancellor Roderick had been replaced by two new faces. Sael could only assume these were the woman from Antiva and the former Knight-Commander, Cullen. Cassandra stood at one end of the feasting table littered with maps and tokens with Leliana. Sael was left to stand on the otherside.

"May I present Commander Cullen, leader of the Inquisition's forces." Cassandra announced rather than asked. 

The man was a battle harden man with a gentle face. Piercing blue eyes and perfectly shaped short blonde hair. Sael knew of him. Memories in the souls of others who ventured through the Deep Roads. She was surprised the accuracy of the memories, right down to his plated armor and feather and fur mantle on his shoulders. "Such as they are." He gave a short bow of the head. Eyes glancing over the table. "We lost many soldiers in the valley, and I fear many more before this is through."

Cassandra agreed. She gestured to the Antiva woman, a soul unknown to Sael. "This is Lady Josephine Montiyet, our ambassador and chief diplomat." The name was very well know to Sael. Centuries of Montilyet merchants took paths through the roads. Ancestors having even done business when they flourished.

Josephine was just as Varric described, though she would never admit that to him. Carmel color eyes and deep red lips all framed by intricately braided jet black hair. Complexion and hair were drastically contrasted by the pearled gold shirt. Sleeves bunched together intentionally around her arms. Periwinkle vest accented the top along with a layer of finely crafted gold necklace draped over her shoulders. A pallet with a lit candle and inkwell laying across her forearm, quill dotting in the air as she spoke. "Andaran Atish'an." She greeted, an accent slipping through the words.

"You speak elven?" Sael raised a curious eyebrow.

"You just heard the entirety of it, I'm afraid." A nervous chuckle lifted her words. Her shoulders fell a bit and relaxed as Sael smiled warmly.

Cassandra cut in with the finally introduction. "And of course you know Sister Leliana."

'Sure, pre-execution though." Sael smirked. A strained quiet groan answered from Cassandra.

Leliana was unphased. "My position here involves a degree of-"

"She is our spymaster." Cassandra filled in.

"Yes." Leliana confirmed with an exasperated sigh. "Tactfully put, Cassandra."

Sael took a deep breath. "Well, lovely stack of titles here. Pleasure to meet you all."

Cassandra held back a roll of her eyes. "I mentioned that your mark needs more power to close the Breach for good."

"Which means we must approach the rebel mages for help." Leliana offered, hands slipping behind her back.

Cullen's hand rested on his sword's hilt. "And I still disagree. The Templars could serve just as well."

Cassandra leveled a warning glare at the Knight-Commander. "We need power, Commander. Enough magic poured into that mark-"

"Might destroy us all." Cullen turned his own on the Seeker. "Templars could suppress the Breach, weaken it so-"

"Pure speculation."

Cullen looked as if his head was about to roll right off his shoulders. "I was a Templar. I know what they're capable of."

Sael shifted her weight to one leg, stretching the other out a bit. Arms crossed over just under her chest. There would have been less bickering in a stranded boats full of cats than in this group of advisors.

Josephine shot both down. "Unfortunately, neither group will even speak to us yet." She put on her most pleasantly impassive face. "The Chantry has denounced the Inquisition." Turning to Sael. "And you, specifically."

Sael shook her head, grinning. "To be honest, in all my years, I have never had a room full of angry paint brushes and men in dresses so livid with me. Not this quickly at least."

"Paint brushes?" Leliana couldn't stop herself from the question.

"The hats." Sael outlined the shape of the Chantry women's veil and wimples.

Leliana barely managed to stifle back her laugh into a single snort behind a balled fist.

"Some are calling you," Josephine immediately turned the conversation back onto the previous topics. "a Dalish elf, the 'Herald of Andraste'. That frightens the Chantry."

"I'd agree, if I was Dalish, but go on." Sael corrected. The others looked each other for an explanation. There was none.

"...An...elf then." Josephine struggled for a moment, quickly jotting a note on her stack of papers attached to the pallet. Finished she continued. "The remaining clerics have declared it blasphemy, and we" quill sweeping outward to encompass the others. "heretics for harboring you."

Cassandra's face deepened into a scowl. "Chancellor Roderick's doing, no doubt."

"Isn't he just a peach." Sael stole Cassandra's missed opportunity to groan.

Josephine lifted several pages, scanning them before letting them fall again. "It limits our options. Approaching the mages or Templars for help is currently out of the question."

"So I'm not human enough, scapegoat enough. Not kissing enough ass and my every breath is an affront to the Maker himself to be basically be called his wife's courier? I'll take an arrow to my head before they accept me for all these...sins. Or is the house stacked against me that much?"

Cullen bore a smirk to rival Varric. "How do you feel about that?"

"All warm and fuzzy. I'll be sure to remember them during when I speak to Falon'Din." Sael's fake smile was unnerving. "Be sure to get to that while the Breach continues to pose the bigger problem."

"They know it's a threat." Cullen clarified. "They just don't think we can stop it."

Josephine added. "The Chantry is telling everyone you'll only make it worse."

"Because beauty pageants are much more useful..." Sael scoffed, turning on her heel to find a place to sit.

"There is something you can do." Leliana stepped up to the table. "Chantry cleric by the name of Mother Giselle has asked to speak to you. She's not far, and knows those involved far better than I. Her assistance could be invaluable."

Sael stilled and raised both eyebrows. "Fire with fire I suppose."

Leliana nodded. "You will find Mother Giselle tending to the wounded in the Hinterlands near Redcliffe."

"Look for other opportunities to expand the Inquisition's influence while you're there." Cullen spoke, halting Sael from bolting from the war room.

"We need agents to extend our reach beyond this valley." Josephine pushed the suggestion. "And you're better suited than anyone to recruit them."

Sael tried not to make it look like she was fighting with herself in regards of the door. She simply wanted out. "In the meantime, let's think of other options. I won't leave this all to the Herald." Cassandra chimed in.

"Got it, anything else before I..." Sael restrained her sarcasm. "I'll let Cassandra know when I'm ready to take off. I need a moment before hand."

The war room was quickly well behind her. Sael nearly sprinted from the meeting as soon as there was a chance. It wasn't till the chilled air burned in her lungs did she stop. Confinement was going to be a tricky issue on the surface. Deep Roads may have been buried well beneath earth, that didn't mean they were cramped. Another few deep breaths and she finally managed to straighten herself out. At the edge of her vision she noticed a figure staring at her. Sael turned her head to see Solas with a puzzled look, she smiled and shook her head letting a chuckle escape her before heading toward the male elf.

Sael pointed to his cabin door, a suggestion to talk inside. "Ever been to the Hinterlands?" She asked loudly.

"Far too many bears for my taste." Solas answered, pushing the door open. The two headed inside.

Cassandra remained in the war room with the others after Sael bolted. The three went over some finer details to their problems at hand. The Seeker broke topic. "Leliana, were you able to recover anything about Sael?"

"Not really." Leliana's face grew dark. "Not something I am accustom to. No human I asked knew her. One of my elvhen agents did recall the name and said she had to be named for some ancient Dalish legends." She picked up a token of her agents. "Though, I did receive word from a contact in Orzammar saying there was a legend shared between dwarves and elves."

"What does that have to do with Sael?" Josephine shook her head. "There aren't many dwarven stories circulating among humans and elves. They are secretive about their culture."

Leliana nodded. "Yes, but it might be the one my elvhen agent mentioned. Though, the agent in Orzammar said she was called 'Gangue'."

"It can't possibly be the same woman though?" Cassandra tried to consider the scope of the information.

"It doesn't seem likely." Leliana put the token back down and started coming around for the door. "It would make her over six thousand years old. Not even the elves live that long anymore."

Cassandra and Cullen both nodded. The Commander felt an unsettled pit form in his stomach. "Keep digging." The Seeker requested.


	5. Chapter 5

What meager forces the Inquisition had was dispatched soon after the meeting in the war room. The advisors remained in Haven, leaving their command in the hands of those they trusted. Sael spent the day preparing for the extended stay in the Hinterlands. Eventually, fully packed, she and the others loaded up four old nags. Sael choose the ashen coloured horse with an aged disgruntle look in its eye. There was no magical connection, instant soul bonding or even a level playing field between the potential rider and horse. Just a spirit masquerading as an hundred fifty pound elf and a fifteen hundred pound nag. Odds were stacked heavily against her. Sael tugged cautiously on the saddle horn before hauling herself up. The horse nickered and snorted loudly before settling with Sael.

The ride to the hinterlands wasn't the breakneck speeds. The horses barely managed a steady canter during the day. A reluctant walk through half the nights. By the time Cassandra, Varric, Solas and Sael made it to the first camp, the soldiers and agents were already neck deep in the mage and Templar war. The Hinterlands was a lush green forest at the end of the Frostback mountain's foothills. Flowers of every colour imaginable, trees reaching to a warm blue sky. Rivers, waterfalls and lakes scattered through the area. It was a breath taking landscape, even with the pillars of ice magic still speared up through the ground, charred bridges and infested strongholds. It was farmers lands and they were the innocents caught between warring factions.

At camp Sael was approached by a female dwarf in light plate armor. She had a gentle face with chestnut brown hair braided back along her head. She greeted the group. "The Herald of Andraste!" She smiled. "I've heard the stories. Everyone has. We know what you did at the Breach."

"How many stories can one become? There was only one Breach." Sael chuckled, shaking her head. 

"As many as there are people. It's odd for a Dalish elf to care what happens to anyone else, but you'll get no back talk here." The dwarf meant it with all her heart. "That's a promise." She nodded as if to strength the promise itself. "Inquisition scout Harding, at your service."

"Sael, please." The Herald quickly returned the introduction.

"I...all of us here, we'll do whatever we can to help." Harding corrected herself.

Varric nearly pushed through between Solas and Cassandra. "Harding, huh?" The grin on his face looked as if it was going to meet at the back of his head. "Ever been to Kirkwall's Hightown?"

Harding shook her head, a puzzled expression. "I can't say I have. Why?"

"You'd be Harding in..." Varric sighed, he knew when a piece of comedy gold was lost on someone.

Cassandra groaned in a mix of disgust and annoyance.

Sael snapped her finger and turned sharply to Varric. "Ehhh, yes, I love it." She and Varric shared a short laugh before letting it trail off into a sigh. "Right, Harding, can you fill us in?"

"We came to secure horses from Redcliffe's old Horsemaster." Harding let her confusion fall to the wayside. "I grew up here, and people always said that Dennet's herds were the strongest and fastest this side of the Frostbacks."

"Met a Ferghana horse that would argue but I'll take the best we can get right now." Sael glanced around to see if any other horses were nearby. None save the one they rode in on. Her nag giving Sael the stink-eye from the hitching post.

Harding wasn't sure how much more her face could twist. "Isn't that breed extinct? They were some elvhen horse." She shook it off in the hopes the topic would drop. "The mage-Templar fighting is getting worse, we couldn't get to Dennet. Maker only knows if he's even still alive. We know you're here for Mother Giselle."

"Extinct doesn't mean that they-" Sael was cut off by Solas curtly clearing his throat. Sael caught the implied warning. Turning back to Harding. "Yes, the Chantry mother."

"Mother Giselle's at the Crossroads helping refugees and the wounded. Our latest reports say that the war's spread there too." Harding took a deep breath and continued. "Corporal Vale and our men are doing what they can to help protect the people, but they won't be able to hold out very long."

"Than that concludes the amount of time I have for conversation." Sael thanked Harding and head down the hill the camp was sat on.

Dirt and small rocks crunched under their boots as they jogged down the path leading toward the Crossroads. There wasn't much for roads, just stamped out popular trails used by farmers and travelers. At the edge of the Crossroads, a small group of Templars in full armor for battle. They were in combat with Inquisition forces. Sael quickly summoned earth and rocks to coat her arms in thick jagged shells. She could feel Solas's barrier magic coat herself as well as Varric and Cassandra. The dwarf took up position on the extended foundation of a nearby house while the Seeker charged, shield up, into the Templars. Sword clashed and the Templars rallied to face the Herald and her companions head on.

Tower shields at the ready as they tried to skewer Cassandra from the sides and above. The Seeker parried, disarming one. Sael's magic stretched to close the short gap between her and the next Templar's sword that was hurtling down at the Seeker. It banged uselessly against the rocks, quickly consumed by them and broken in half. Sael's remaining stone coated arm rammed with the force of a war horse at full gallop into the offending Templars face. A series of Varric's bolts peppered the third's face.

With the three Templars dead came running was a group of apostate mages. They could have only been the initial targets of the Templars. Now free of their attackers, they turned their attention and magic on the group of Inquisition soldiers and the Herald herself. Cassandra again, ran at them. Solas and Varric remained at a distance, lending support as Sael rushed after Cassandra. The two women made short work of the mages. Tightly compacted thin cones of rock and earth impaled two of them. The third looking over his shoulder and turning back only to find the Seeker's sword ramming through his gut.

Templar and Mage corpses laid together. The stillness and silence was deafening to those who lived. It was merely a taste of what was to come in the following days. Weapons lowered, a sign that the fighting had come to an end. Villagers slowly begun poking their heads out of doorways and from beneath overturned wagons. Cassandra was the first to go and help the people along side the soldiers. Varric, Solas and Sael quickly followed suit. Farmers and families begun crying praises to the Inquisition. To the Herald. 'Praise be the Herald of Andraste! She sent her to save us from the Breach! From evil!' They howled among themselves. Some stretching out hands in hope to brush the edges of Sael's clothing. It took everything the spirit had come to learn not to scowl and dash their prayers aside. In trying times, prayer is the one thing everyone had to hang on to and to offer.

Near the tent clinics where healers did their best to give aid to wounded and dying, Mother Giselle was at the bedside of a injuried soldier. He argued against magic, even as he writhed in pain, he refused magic over less effective medicine. Sael remained quiet as her companions lingered nearby.

"There are mages here who can heal your wounds." Mother Giselle informed the young man. "Lie still."

The man's head fell back on the makeshift pillow. Too heavy to hold up for long. "Don't..." He wheezed as he took a breath. "let them touch me, Mother. Their magic..." his fear and loathing stretching his words out.

"Turned to noble purpose," The Chantry Mother's face softened, a gentle pressing in her tone. "Their magic is surely no more evil than your blade."

"...But..."

"Hush, dear boy." Her accent softening her command. "Allow them to ease your suffering." She helped him stretch out and gain what little comfort he could laying down.

Sael came up along the Mother's side. "Mother Giselle?"

"I am." She rose from the bedside and approached Sael to talk quietly. To spare the wounded a heavy topic of discussion and the nosy to keep to their own business. "And you must be the one they're calling the Herald of Andraste."

"A unwanted title." Sael got the feeling she was going to get real exhausted of that title quickly. Even faster, it was becoming a test of her patience. "I was told you wanted a word with me."

Giselle nodded a shallow bow. "I did. How often those blessed are given names they didn't ask for. What becomes of it, is up to the branded." She gave Sael a wry smile. "I know of the Chantry's denouncement, and I'm familiar with those behind it." She started walking, Sael keeping pace.

"..."

"I won't lie to you: some of them are grandstanding, hoping to increase their chances of becoming the new Divine." She stopped a ways from the clinic tents. "Some are simply terrified. So many good people, senselessly taken from us..." 

Sael shook her head. "Spitting on something in the hopes to grab the most powerful seat in your religious. Yes, because that is a wonderful example of what the Chantry stands for." Her sarcasm was thick in her voice, not nearly as much as the truth of her opinions regarding the Chantry. Where was all this passion and immediate reactions when the Blights ravaged her home, her roads. The Dwarves may not be easy to work with, but still. "I'd put coin on another fanatic of some group is behind the conclave."

"I was made aware of your feelings toward the Chantry well before you got here. You may not share our faith, but we share a goal." Giselle's mouth pulled into a thin line.

"You have me there." Sael raised an eyebrow and finally smiled at the Chantry Mother. "Now I have a bunch of fear stricken people in robes trying to pretend everything is under control. They don't do a very good job and the people see it. Now their in a panic and I can't get any of these waterlogged cats to sit still a moment to hear me."

"Fear creates desperation." Giselle tried to hide the smile Sael's description created. It was all too familiar to her. "Go to them. Convince the remained clerics you are no demon to be feared."

Solas snorted a cutoff chuckle just behind them.

"They have heard only frightful tales or you. Give them something else to believe." The Chantry Mother returned her attention to Sael.

Sael looked around herself and then pushed her face a hair closer to Giselle's. "You want me...to walk into a room full of starved bears high on delusions of grandeur and attempt to give them a dose of reality? What part of that do you see me walking out alive?" She scoffed, back up. "Appeal to their 'better nature'? Do they have that since their the scrapes who didn't make it to the Divine's peace talk garden tea party?"

"You could always let them keep spinning their stories about you." The Chantry Mother sported a dark grin. "If I thought you were incapable, I wouldn't have suggested it."

The sheer ballsy of the claim took Sael back a step. "You really believe. In them, in me?"

"Let me put it this way: you needn't convince them all." Giselle looked over the Crossroads for a moment. Picking her words carefully. "You just need some of them to doubt. Their power is their unified voice. Take that from them, and you receive the time you need."

"You should have gone into politics."

"The Maker knew I would be too powerful for my own good." She chuckled. "I will go to Haven and provide Sister Leliana the names of those in the Chantry who would be amenable to a gathering. It is not much, but I will do whatever I can." She nodded a farewell and started down the little slope they stood on, leaving Sael to consider her next move.

Cassandra and the others took the place of the Chantry Mother. "Corporal Vale is coordinating the Inquisition's efforts in the area. We should speak with him." Cassandra pointed in the corporal's general direction.

"Solas, Varric?" Sael wanted their thoughts on the matter.

Varric took a grim look around. "We should help these people out. With the Templar and mages so far up each other's asses, it's hard to say they take a minute to consider the people."

"I agree," Solas nodded, holding his staff up, leaning it out to acknowledge the local populace. "Something must be done to offer aid if no one else is doing so."

Sael clicked her tongue. "Alright then, let's go make some friends." She turned and headed in the direction Cassandra pointed. "Then we see a man about a horse."

First camp was made by a lake with a small island at one end. The quickly restocked and reviewed their current objective. They needed blankets, ram meat, safer travel and even a cult and breathing potion to retrieve. As if there wasn't anything hazardous already, a dragon nesting somewhere. Those were just the beginning of things. They all agreed, there were going to be favors asked for at the sides of roads and every time they stopped anywhere. Moving on they established another camp, just outside Dennet's lands. Lush farming and pastures for horses and livestock to feed on. Farmers and ranchhands moved about their daily chores. Almost as if they were oblivious to the hell unleashed upon Thedas looming overhead. Almost, every glance over a shoulder was cast skyward.

Sael sat on a quickly crafted bench at the far end of the camp, a fire in front of her, Solas, Varric and Cassandra sitting around equally apart from each other. The elf woman finished rolling dwarven tobacco into a paper, pulling the stick from her mouth so that her lips would moisten it enough to seal it.

Varric shook his head, chuckling. "You know Sael, I would have thought you'd be more like spirits in the stories. You far more elf than you admit. Smoking, really?"

"..." Tense silence.

"What?" Varric shrugged. "Not like I have a problem with it." He looked from Sael to Solas and stopped short on Cassandra's face. The Seeker's eyes were wide in surprise. "...Right...Forgot not everyone knew-"

"Knew what!" Cassandra hissed. "Sael isn't an elf?!" She shot an accusing look at the woman in question. A similar glare at Solas. "Did you know?"

Solas thought carefully for a moment. A lie seemed more dangerous than the truth at this point. "I didn't think it was relevant. Spirit or not, Sael can close rift and thus the Breach. Our objective and method haven't changed."

"Maker's breath." Cassandra nearly sat back too far. "It matters, how can the Herald of Andraste be a spirit. A spirit of what, might I ask?"

"What's it matter that I am a spirit?" Anger nipping at the back of Sael's mind. "Should I be angry about traveling with a human? An elf and a dwarf?"

Cassandra stood, moving behind her seat to pace a moment before turning back to the group. "A human, elf and dwarf can't become demons. You can turn on us all with no warning. It's worse than abominations running loose."

"..." The others remained silent, watching the fire.

"Varric, you're fine with this? A spirit possessed elf watching your back?!" Cassandra scrambled for support.

"She's watched my back before and I'd trust Sael with my life for whatever it's worth." Varric's word cut at the Seeker. "Come on Seeker, beggars can't be choosers."

Cassandra scowl only deepened. "What are you a spirit of? What happened to the soul of the woman you possessed."

Sael sighed an ugly sound. "Alright, you want to do this now. Fine." She stood and held a open hand to Solas. She wiggled her fingers in a request. "Dagger, please."

Solas didn't question, merely pulled one from his pack and put it in Sael's hand. The woman locked eyes with Cassandra and without warning or explanation, plowed the dagger straight into her stomach. Varric and Cassandra leapt backward, nearly tripping over themselves. Sael didn't cry out, scream or cry. Nor did she bleed. The dagger was yanked free and a bloodless weapon was handed back to Solas.

"I didn't possess a body. I made this myself to suit my means. I still have no answer for you about the Conclave but that doesn't mean I don't know who I am." Sael's words bore a hard edge to them. Anger clipped by each sentence. "My name is the same and I am a spirit. Of what, I am no where near comfortable telling you given this reaction."

Cassandra remained standing in dismay.

"They both know because I choose to tell him." Sael gestured to Solas. "And he knows because we have old history. Now if you're down casting some Chantry educated judgement on me, we have work to do." Sael nearly kicked her bench over as she turned away to head towards Dennet's home at the far end of the ranch. "We've got work to do."

Solas rose with a stoic air and followed after Sael. Varric remained behind for a moment with Cassandra. The warrior gave the rogue a pleading look. "Is she worth the risks."

Varric nodded. "And then some. Seeker, hate her if you want, but she'll still do everything she can to lead us out of this mess."

Horsemaster Dennet's house was the largest of the nearby buildings. Inside was spacious with straw littering everywhere in small piles. A deep red carpet rug covering the main room's entire floor stopping only at the side of stairs leading to a second level. Sael, still sour from Cassandra's discovery, approached the man.

"So you're the Inquisition, eh?" Dennet noted the badges hanging from each of them. "Hear you're trying to bring order back. It's high time someone did. Name's Dennet. I served Arl Eamon for thirty years as horsemaster. I heard your Inquisition is look for mounts."

"You have good hearing." Sael looked the man over. "I heard you have the best but I don't hear any moving."

"You have good hearing to." Dennet shot back. "I can't send a hundred of the finest horses in Ferelden down the road like you'd send a letter."

Sael kept a blank face fixed on Dennet.

"Every bandit between here and Haven would be on them like flies on crap." Dennet continued to defend. "You'll have mounts once I know they won't end up as a cold winter's breakfast."

"If you have a problem with me, I'd like to know." Sael was starting to wish she had minded her own business those thousands something years ago.

"What?" Dennet look aghast before regaining his composure. "This because I called you Halla-Rider?"

There was a noticeable twitch in both Solas and Sael. She cleared her throat. "Not that I heard. You're keeping mounts from people who need them to help others."

"Look, my wife Elaina manages the farms, and Bron's in charge of my guards." Dennet shifted topic and stance quickly. "They'll tell you what they need. Until then, you deserve something better than whatever knock-kneed plow nag they gave you."

"I would have called her a last ditch meal after cannibalism nag..." Sael recalled the stink-eye the horse she rode in on had given her.

Dennet pointed in a direction beyond the wall connected to the front door. "The chestnut over there is a purebred Ferelden forder. Take care of him and he'll take care of you, Inquisition."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally out of following the scripted game. Main plot is still there but we've gone outside game for this.

Crossroads was more than pleased to receive the blankets and ram meat the group had gathered along the way. Sael and the others were more so to be relieved of the smell of meat lingering among them. Varric strongly suggested trading her bag out, citing his experience that the smell would never wash out. It was a mutual agreement, the vendor was reluctant at first but the dwarf managed to convince him otherwise. Something about looking bad for not helping out the people that rid the small trading post of Templars and mages seem to guilt the vendor.

Elaina and Bron had been civil at best, expected in trying times. There was a pack of wolves terrorizing the people of the Hinterlands. Bron had requested watchtowers be built as an early warning system for farmers of dangers, to include bandits, Templars or mages still warring. Sael sent out scouts to locate and mark the watchtowers while her and her companions handled the wolves. She could barely hide the smirk on her face toward Solas Elaina briefly covered the state of the local wolves. Solas did nothing to hide his eyes rolling. Cassandra missed both. Varric on the other hand raised a silent eyebrow.

North-east of Redcliffe farms, in the Foranna ravine the sounds of howling could be heard. On the rock face was an elvhen painting of a wolf's head. Sael gave it a quirky look and shrugged walking into the ravine. Torches and a small campfire found a short ways in.

"If these wolves are unusually savage," Solas broke the quiet. "It might be the fault of a demon or the Breach simply driving them mad."

A collective nod. "Either way, we're going to have to deal with these wolves. Can't have them running around feral."

"A sad state of things." Solas muttered.

"Cheer up, Chuckles." Varric prepared Bianca as they walked. "We'll get you a puppy when we get back to Haven."

They rounded a corner, there was four wolves, black as tar and eyes glowing the same sickly green as the Breach. They turned heads immediately at the party.

"Demon control." Varric confirmed, a bolt fired off as fast as he spoke.

First wolf fell, stuck with as many bolts as a vengeful wife with a double-dealing husband. The other three lunged into battle, foaming at the mouth and fangs bared to their fullest extent. Solas skewered on with a ice spike through it's neck, death throes and choking yelps foretold it's death. Third and fourth smashed into Cassandra's shield. The Seeker was barely able to lift her sword arm for little more than defending herself from snapping jaws and scrambling claws. A stone spike jutted skyward through one's hips, jaws snapping onto the point of a jagged stone gauntlet. Sael shoved with the force of the ground carrying her momentum through. The third wolf now freed of the top of it's head, slumped off the shield leaving Cassandra, shield and the fourth wolf tumbling to the side. Cassandra, an expert swordsman, rolled with the fall and drove her sword through the temple of the last wolf.

An unworldly shriek was heard further in the ravine. The sound could have only come from an envy demon. A spindly demon that fed on the jealously and lustful wanting of the people of Thedas.

There was no need for words or commands, they all knew what needed to be done. They regrouped and charged in to find the demon and three more wolves pacing nearby, hackles raised. The wolves were the first to fall on the Inquisition team, each fell as quickly as the rest of their pack had. The envy demon leapt up only to fall down into a wisp like portal. The green portal swirled at the feet of Seal and Cassandra. With too little time to escape, the demon reemerged, knife-like talons lashing out at everything within reach. Cassandra managed to deflect the attack only for it to roll off and catch Sael across the leg. Sael yelped in pain, unwilling to let it get the best of her she forced the stone gauntlets on her arm explode into needles speeding outward in most every direction. The envy demon's face caught most of them, eroding away into nothingness. A single amulet in it's place.

Sael sat hard on the ground, taking several deep breaths. Spirit or not, taking a physical form had it's dangers. One of which was blood and lose of limb, regeneration would take longer than simply returning to the Deep Roads and sinking back into her home. Coming back into the Waking world was a gamble on time. That itself didn't account for what would happen with the Anchor. Solas dropped to a knee and pulled bandages from his bag. A health potion was offered from some where, he didn't care where. Sael sneered at the bottle, memory of the elixirs taste flashed across her tongue. Solas knitted his eyebrows and pushed the potion toward her. She downed it, the taste nearly worse than the pain. Slowly the wounds begun to stitch themselves back together. Still, a bandage was wrapped around her leg and Sael was helped to her feet.

The rushed back to Dennet's ranch. Sael grunting in annoyance in the saddle as pain pricked at her senses. They hitched the horses at the stables and went up to inform Elaina and Bron that the tasks they requested were complete. Bron thanked them and went back to his work at the table in front of him. Elaina brightened greatly, she took a deep breath and sighed in relief.

"You're wounded." Elaina noticed Sael's leg. The horsemaster's wife dropped the herbs in hand into a nearby basket. "Come, inside and we'll get you patched up."

"Already done." Sael shook the empty bottle, glaring at it as if the contents were still inside. She looked back to Elaina. "But we could use a good meal and a place to rest and come up with the next step."

Elaina nodded and led the four inside her and Dennet's home. He praised them and promised to have horses sent in the following morning. A small feast was prepared for dinner that evening. Roasted pig on a spit, potatoes and onion as the meat rested on a platter. A keg of mead was tapped and brought out. The horsemaster and his wife ate hearty with the Inquisition into the early evening. The two excused themselves and offered the spare rooms to Sael and her companions. With only two available, sharing was a must. The Breach still a looming threat and no real idea how they were going to achieve that level of power, they were left to plot the next step.

Varric let his mug thud hard onto the table. "Shortcut, you ought to know some powerful spirits to help boost you. Think you can get any of them to come round."

"Chantry hates us as it is." Sael countered. "Unless you want them and people at Haven's door with pitchforks and torches in hand."

"Sael is right," Solas supported. "The Chantry could react violently to such an action."

Cassandra couldn't bring herself to disagree. It was accurate. "Still we need to wait and see what Liliana has for us back in Haven regarding the names Mother Giselle gave us. In the mean time we have things we can do here in to bolster the Inquisition's reputation."

"Helping mop the floors?" Sael groaned, head sinking down by her mug.

"Helping find loved ones or the dead find their way home. Those caught in this inane fighting between Templar and mages." Cassandra corrected coldly.

Solas scoffed. "I hardly find mages fighting for respect and freedom an trivial or even a joking matter."

"I didn't mean-" Cassandra groaned and shook her head. "I meant they should be solving their differences in a calmer fashion."

"Tried that." Varric downed the rest of his mead, stretching from his chair to refill. "Ended in a bang."

Cassandra flicked her mug at Varric, splashing his face with mead. "..." Her face darkened in anger.

"I earned that." He wiped the drink off with a napkin. Sael and Solas let out quiet chuckles. He excused him, blaming the mead for his comment and the sudden exit.

"Well," Sael took a breath and shoved her mug aside. "I would say it's time I turned in. Since we have to share..." She turned to Solas. "Mind taking the other bed? We can try and work out this mark and if we have any alternatives."

Solas rose and stretched his arms behind his back. It was a motion that shouldn't have been as charming as he made it out to be. "I would welcome the opportunity." He smiled and stepped up beside Sael. They wished Cassandra a good evening and headed to the room not taken by Varric.

Cassandra was alone, for the first time in nearly two months she was truly alone. She shifted her mug between her hands, trying to decide what to do now. Sael and Solas in a room together, leaving her to room with Varric. She considered with the stables would be a more appealing option. The dwarf who talked unceasingly won out over the smell of livestock and horses. She reminded herself repeatedly it was a choice made out of a comfort and not because she wasn't above sleeping rough. A flicker of a thought crept into the back of her mind. A hope, that Varric would be awake and in a accommodating mood. Talk about anything, except politics, religion or the Inquisition. That left both of their personal lives and hobbies on the table. Or his books.

Each step felt like it was made of the cross between a tar pit and an swamp. Cassandra climbed without a falter in her climb. One of the two door handles had a small string with an elfroot leaf tied in it's knot. Solas and Sael's room. Cassandra gently took the other door handle, letting her fingers slip slowly around the handle. A cautious push and confident push led the Seeker into a small room, lit by two candles on a singe small table. Two small beds were placed parallel to each other up against either wall. No window and a wash basin with a pitcher sat on it's own table closest to the door. Varric sat on his bed, cross-legged, going over a stack of papers.

"Seeker." Varric's famous smirk crossed his face. Cassandra could almost feel the crossbow bearing a smug look as well. "So it seems were bunkies tonight."

"Wonderful." Cassandra's sarcasm answered faster than she would have liked. She pulled the metal aspects of her armor off and placed them on the only chair in the room. "Solas and Sael took the other, to talk about the mark."

Varric scoffed and shook his head. "Figured those two would be ten toes to Andraste by now. They have a lot in common."

"Ten toes to..." The insinuated events behind the elves closed door clicked in Cassandra's head. "Maker's breath, Varric, they barely know each other."

Varric only raised his gaze at the Seeker. "His obsessed with spirits, she is one. Plus they seem to get along well enough." Varric flipped through pages. "Specially after their little escape to the Deep Roads back at Haven."

Cassandra nearly fell over as she dropped to the empty bedside. "...What?" She was breathless.

"..." Varric realized what he'd done. "Maker's balls...Seeker..."

"How could you hide this?!" She shouted through a raspy whisper. "What else are you hiding? Next you'll tell me, she's secretly a dragon!"

"C-calm dow-" That demand never. Ever. Worked. Varric cleared his throat. "Look, Seeker, I'm going to have to trust you, even if Sael scares me more than you do."

"..."

Varric rubbed his face, mulling sentences and phrases over in his head. One lie after another in hopes to find one Cassandra would buy. The seething expresion on her face shoot the idea of a plausible lie down. "Right." He sighed heavily. Varric turned on the bed to put his feet on the floor. "So Sael and I go way back. Met her a couple times when traveling with the Champion of Kirkwall, Fen'asha Hawke."

"That doesn't explain anything, Varric." Cassandra let his name slip with all the venom she could muster.

"I'm setting this up!" Varric defended, a finger to his lips pleading that Cassandra lower her voice. There was no telling if Sael could hear through the walls. "You want an answer or not?" Silence. "So Hawke and I had a job that led us into the Deep Roads. Further than any of wanted. Fenris, he tried talking her out of it several times. So we end up going, no two ways about it."

"..." Cassandra listened with the focus of a god.

"We ran into darkspawn, expected, but this time it was too much and we were overrun." Varric looked toward the door, a mournful frown. "Fen'Asha was hurt pretty bad. Fenris was trapped...everyone else too far to make it in time."

Cassandra waited a moment before scooting a bit closer. "And then? How did you make it out?" 

Varric smiled, Seeker was hooked. "Well, the roads begun to move..."

"Move?!" Cassandra couldn't mask her surprise.

"Like they had minds of their own." Varric leaned forward, fingers weaved together. "Seeker, the roads churned and rolled. Slabs of Deep Roads stone coming up to smash darkspawn. Sections dropping to let packs fall into the abyss below. Stalagmites breaking through railing to impale others. In all that chaos and confusion, that's when it got...weird." Varric lowered his voice. "Those roads begun to disconnect. Clean breaks like they were made to. Sliding every direction like something enchanted them."

"..." Cassandra didn't realize she was holding her breath.

"I saw her."

"Her who?"

"Sael. Andraste on her pyre, I saw Sael." Varric's grin consumed his face. "Where she walked, the roads made way. A wave of her hands and they rolled over. I thought that this insane woman was just a ridiculously powerful mage. That was," He held up a finger to give pause. "Until I noticed she was gliding on the stone like we walk through water."

Cassandra sat back. "You're saying you met her as a spirit in the Deep Roads and she saved you and the Champion of Kirkwall."

"No Seeker," Varric shook his head. "I'm telling you, Sael Alas'en is a spirit. The spirit of the Deep Roads itself."

The world spun around Cassandra. She foolishly stood, all the blood rushed away from her head, taking her legs out from under her. She barely noticed Varric catching her and holding her up. Cassandra's senses quickly returned. "I thought emotions...were the only spirits and demons. What is a place doing having one?" She pushed a palm to an eye, trying to ground herself. "Why are you telling me this?" Leveling a harden gaze on the smuggler merchant. "What is there to stop me from-"

"Everything is stopping you." Varric answered, he helped her sit back down on her side of the room. "Seeker, we are up against a giant hole in the sky and the bastard who put it there. Heroes are flocking to Haven and a new Inquisition is formed." Varric squeezed Cassandra's shoulder with a meaty hand. "Do you want to play fair and bring the Chantry in on this when we can barely stand on our own legs right now. Or. Let one of the most rare and likely scariest thing in Thedas shut the Breach down."

The tension and quiet in the little room was thick, nearly choking. Varric took a gamble on Cassandra. Trusting her with a enormous truth. It wasn't the truth the Seeker had asked him for when they first met, but it was just as important.

"I will." Cassandra weighed her words. "I will help keep Sael safe."

Sael sat forward from the wall, she had heard everything from Cassandra and Varric's room. It had gone far better than she would have guessed it could. A pleasant surprise. Solas gave a single nod with a small smile. A foundation was forming beneath Sael's position of power.

"I would consider you lucky." Solas whispered.

Sael turned a smirk on him. "You and I are far too old to believe in luck. Seems I'm common knowledge now."

"Among this collection, yes." Solas sat the cup of water aside. "On to our own matters. You have an idea?"

"I'm taking Varric's suggestion." Sael pulled the blankets up over her shoulder. "In part at least."

Solas made himself comfortable in his own bed. "What part, summoning spirits?"

"I'm going to call a meeting." Sael reached out to snuff the candle. "They might have some ideas, if not, they might know who or what made the Breach."

Darkness filled the room save for the creaks of Sael adjusting in her bed. "Would be a wonder to see. I can only guess what those spirits are like."

"Why guess?" Sael's voice answered back. "Did you think I was leaving you behind?"

Solas chuckled to himself. "You do know how to show an elvhen a good time. Perhaps you're after something more personal than my expertise?"

The bed creaked again. "I'm sorry, are you flirting?"

"In the eyes of the beholder." Solas wriggled a moment in bed before sinking into a dream and from there, the Fade. He was after an old friend in hopes she would have more information on the Deep Roads.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive the absence. I needed to do some research for this one.

"I WILL HAVE THAT CURS HEAD MOUNTED ON MY WALL!"

Sael grabbed the back of Solas's neck and shoved him down to the floor, avoiding the earthen throne hurled at them both. The two remained ducked at the end of the table while the others raged over head.

"I can't say this is how I saw this going." Solas flinched as a chunk of table snapped off next to his head. The deafening roar of the dragon filled the room.

Sael scrambled in her head for an exit. The only one that was reasonable was through the decorative opening in the ceiling. She grabbed Solas's hand and tried to look confident. "To be honest, this is pretty mild for them. Still, it's a good time to bail." She felt him squeeze her hand back. "Ready?"

"Yes."

 

\- Two Days Ago -

 

Dawn hadn't crested the horizon as Sael and Solas slipped out of Dennet's home. Nimbly climbing out the window to silently drop to the ground a few feet below. They loaded up their horses and rode off chasing the moon with sunrise on their tails. Seal had found Solas in the Fade earlier, and informed him that several other greater spirits had agreed to meet, but to make it they needed to leave that moment. There was no argument from Solas. Light finally over took them just as both horses begun to flag. There was no time to rest or trade out mounts. The only thing to be done was to enchant the horses beyond their physical abilities and keep at a full gallop. The longer they went on like that, the greater the chance the horse would drop dead at their destination. It was a necessary evil. As they approached the Frostback mountains south of Haven, Sael drove the horses down into ravine. A quick gesture and a stone hiding a passage into the Deep Roads flew to the side. Their breakneck run hurtled them over sections of the ancients roads no living eye had ever seen. Two days hard ride and finally they pulled the reigns back on the horses. Both animals slumped immediately to the ground, bloody and dead.

Solas matched Sael's brisk jog. "How much further?"

"We are just about there." They stepped out into sun baked plains. Sael stopped. Not a pause or a break, she stopped completly. "I need to go over a couple things with you before we head down."

"This is the Exalted Plains!" Solas dragged a hand over his mouth. Her words brought him back to her attention. "Yes, forgive me, we traveled faster than I am-"

"Solas, please." Sael pleaded for him to listen. "This is a matter of life and death, yours mainly."

His attention fixed on the spirit now.

"The spirits I managed to get in contact with." She held up a fist and raised a finger per name. "Thedas, Por Vollen, Antiva, Orlais, Ferelden, and..." She let loose a defeated sigh. "And Tevinter."

Solas didn't know to respond aside a surprised expression.

"You, Fen'Harel, have supporters and enemies among them. Some don't have two shits to give about you." Seal started backing up toward the giant stone owl carving. "I want you here as support in case things get nasty in there."

"Nasty, how?" Solas quirked an eyebrow.

Sael shrugged and shook her head. "We're going to have Por Vollen and Tevinter under the same roof. I lied to Cassandra and Varric about the Chantry being the problem. These spirits are not suppose to be in a single room together, let alone as a whole group."

Solas's face twisted a bit. The reality of the danger they were heading into was a bit clearer than he would have liked. "Very well. You'd best take the lead on this."

A sigh of relief. Sael curled toes on one foot, tapping the top on the ground. The earth around the pair shuddered, shaking some rubble off near by building remains. A moment later and they were sinking down through a pitch black tunnel. The ground they stood on had become a elevator taking them below the Exalted Plains. Beneath lands soaked in blood drenched history. Nothing to be seen through their descent, even the sun's rays eventually vanished. A tense lull passed before the void was suddenly above and the two found themselves descending into a massive open cavern. Fires dotted through out the space, their light being the only sources and casting everything in a dancing orange color. Solas felt his breath catch in his throat. He had seen the rise and fall of Elvhen empire, rise of humans, the deterioration of the dwarven people, but this cavern hiding unknown to all beneath the Exalted Plains was a new concept.

"This is, El'u Arla." Seal explained. "As old as the world and long before Thedas was even given a name. One of the few things that is older than most of my...kin."

"Secret Home." A smile flashed across his face. "A rare sight to behold, something that remained from our era."

Sael bore a sad smile. "I doubt it'll remain a secret for much longer. Lyrium miners will eventually find this place. It used to be perfectly concealed with the Fade's help. Now..." She trailed off as their pillar stopped and connected itself to a ledge. A large building that strongly resembled a feasting hall stood along on the ground. "We're here." Sael took in a shaky breath and started for the hall. Solas remained a couple steps behind her.

Monolithic doors pushed back with ease as Sael's touch. Scenes depicting battles Solas had never heard of covered the face of either door. Inside was a roaring fire at the furthest reach of the hall. Torches perched on each pillar's face and single table ran the remaining space from door to fire. As Solas turned in stirde to take in the visual feast he noted the proportions of the room. It was significantly larger on the inside than it was from outside. He finally turned from decor to occupants. Sael had already taken a place at the end of the table closest to the door. He hoped it was a tactical choice and not an issue of rank. The others looked between a mixture of expected and surprise.

The first and easiest to spot was Por Vollen. Sael had mentioned in passing before that the spirit of the Qunari's lands was split between dragon and a Kossith. The dragon was twice the size of the high dragons roaming Thedas. A murky brown and yellow hide splashed with equal part scars and blood red war paint streaking across the leathery skin. Teeth the length of pikes and as wide as a catapults arm. Sun colored eyes devoured everything in a darting fashion. Two pairs of horns pointed toward it's tail what could only be described as a violent manner. Throne sized talons clenched into the stone floor. The Kossith standing at attention in front of the dragon was larger than most any Qunari Solas has ever come across. If there was a physical look the Arishok aspired to be, this spirit was it. Armor, decorations and facial features made it impossible to assign any gender to the Kossith. They stood nearly two heads taller than the Qunari. Metal and treated reed armor covered vital points on their body. Patterns painted along their body and armor in designs that have been long since forgotten. The defining difference between Kossith and living Qunari was the horns. Kossith's head sprouted three pairs, along with countless smaller spikes and ridges that worked their way down the neck and shoulders. Elbows and knees were just as littered. Dragon and Kossith remained in the back, alone and considerably unsociable to the others.

The spirits of Antiva and Orlais talked between each other. Words strung together without a breath between them. Contracts, dealings, trade routes, and diplomatic positions came and went in rapid succession. Solas was unable to keep up with their conversation. Antiva was a darker complexion draped in gold and brass colored clothing. Gold and silver chains bounced along her limbs as she gestured wildly with her hands, a quill delicately held between two fingers. Orlais on the other hand was wrapped in sharp angular clothing compared to Antiva's puffed outfit. Every fabric hugged so tightly to her body that it looked to have been stitched together as she wore it. One physical breath and it would all fall to shreds. A broad brimmed hat and a bouquet of flowers and feathers framed it. Her face and complexion hidden by her dress and a mask. The mask only showed a single expression at a time, though it flashed between different ones. A porcelain white mask with gold trim with a etched smile, gone in the blink of an eye to be replaced by a red leather and iron details to emphasis anger and several other that Solas couldn't keep straight. The Orlais's face was an ever change mask.

Deep colored tunic and a war battered plate armor covered the spirit of Ferelden. A abrasive seasoned warrior who kept a seat on a chair in the shadow of the room, whittling a wooden block that vaguely was beginning to take shape of a mabari. His face bore several scars and the look of a man who had never once cracked a smile. He quietly hummed a Ferelden lullaby to himself. He might be one of the more reasonable members of this gathering.

A figure cloaked in pitch black robes with gold embroider stood over a woman sitting at the table. Claw like fingers unfurled from beneath a sleeve to slip onto the woman's shoulder. The hood pushed back to reveal a sinfully charming man. Perfect teeth and a mischievous glint in his deep maroon eyes. A tanned complexion and a winning smile, it could have only been the spirit representing Tevinter. The man clearly thought highly of himself and displayed it in every way he could. A crown made of black gems and abyssal serpents winding round those. Clothing that expressed wealth as well as importance. A knowing look on his face betraying the vast well of information and history he held deep in his mind. A faint aroma of blood constantly wafted from the spirit. Tiny humanoid creatures busied themselves at his feet, dashing in and out from beneath the cloak. Solas managed, barely, not to point out the obvious representation of slaves tending to Tevinter.

The woman at the end of Tevinter's grasp was the last of the spirits in attendance. As the others looked to be in perfect picture of health, this woman looked drained and ill. Dress in earthen tones hung poorly on her. Sunken ocean blue eyes and skin the color of plains in a drought. There was a constant look of annoyance on her face, wither looking at the floor, the table, Tevinter or Ferelden, a constant scowl. She was the first to speak to Sael.

"None of us want to be here," Thedas hissed. "You said it was urgent so get on with it. Two days is beyond my limit of tolerance for these fools."

Sael nodded once at the woman. "I understand, Thedas, I'll make this brief as I can."

"The more civilized of us do have things to get back to. My people can't rebuild without me." Tevinter turned toward Seal. "You have called beasts and their masters to this table."

"Be silent, Defransdim." Kossith snapped, just as quickly taking a pose ready for comabt.

"Sharkû's sake!" Sael shot at the group. "Not even five minutes into this and you are already starting problems. Now." She took a breath, eyeing every member of the gathering. "Can we start?"

"..." Silence prevailed.

Sael took a seat, Solas taking the one on her right. "Short of the problem at hand." she actually raised her hand to show the anchor. "I've been branded with some Fade magic, Thedas that is more your expertise. And we have a huge Breach in the sky throwing demons and chaos every where."

"I cannot abide this." Kossith nearly spit at the notion of chaos. The dragon behind them chuckled, curling and relaxing it's body at the thought. "He might." Kossith motioned to the dragon.

"My people have stood and survived everything that has come at them." Ferelden finally stopped whittling the mabari figure. Pocketing it and the knife. "We have weathered everything before and we will continue to do so."

"It's not about weathering." Solas interjected. The spirits all turned to stare at him. Thedas eyeing him with the most venom. "Something must be done to reverse this otherwise we lose all the world to it."

Thedas kept her glare fixed on the elvhen a moment longer before turning back to Sael. "This Breach, you want to know if any of us have heard what might be causing it?"

"It's a reasonable assumption." Sael guarded her intents. She felt a pit in her stomach twist when Tevinter and Thedas exchanged looks across the table. Meanings only the other could extract. "Do you or Tevinter know anything about it?"

"No."

Kossith kicked a chair aside. "Dancing around it all!" He growled. They weren't known for patience. Once a solution presented, Kossith would be the first to lunge into action. Stalling or evasive answers only ever enraged them. "Deep Roads, that mark, does it close rifts?"

"Yes." Sael answered quickly as she could. "But Solas has determined that it's going to take more power than it has to seal the Breach itself."

Antiva and Orlais whispered between each other. The coastal spirit cleared her throat, her voice a ocean breeze. "Orlais and I do not have information pertaining to the Breach, but perhaps we could call in some favors with Nevarra and the Anderfels."

"Xenon the Antiquarian." Orlais cut in. "Darling, he would be a fantastic source of information. He doesn't turn his nose up to anyone with coin."

Thedas gasped sharply, a look of shock riddled her face. "Wait, I know you." She fixed her attention on Solas. "You're that mangy servant of Mythal, Solas. Fen'Heral the Dread Wolf." She was shaking visibly. The other spirits all were caught in varying degrees of surprise. "Y-you created the veil. You insufferable bastard." Thedas was on her feet. "You took the Fade from me! You TORE ME IN HALF!"

"He should have done it sooner." Kossith finally smiled, beaming with approval. It didn't matter the room suddenly became hostile. They weren't the target of all the rage.

"I WILL HAVE THAT CURS HEAD MOUNTED ON MY WALL!" Thedas screamed at the top of her lungs. She lunged toward Solas. Tevinter and the dragon of Por Vollen right behind her.

Sael let loose a string of curses and snatched hold of Solas to duck beneath the overturned table. A quick exit was agreed on even faster. No one spirit overpowered the others in El'u Arla, it was neutral grounds. That didn't change the fact that a huge angry dragon of chaos, a personally insult world and a spirit of a empire that relished mages like prized race horses from attacking the one being who cut them all off from the Fade. It was a mad scramble to escape. There wasn't time for word or even a plan, simply run. Solas dodged a chair hurled in his direction, fire turning the following one to ash. Sael parted earth and stone to clear the way for them. Once outside the pair dove onto the pillar that brought them down and willed it to rise. Solas summoned barrier after barrier as Thedas, Tevinter and Por Vollen rushed after them. The dragon going so far as to ram through the earthen elevator, sending the top portion cascading back down.

It was in the blink of an eye. One second, Por Vollen's fire was creeping up Sael and Solas's legs, next cold filled Sael's senses and Solas's ice mine exploded them higher. His magic propelled them toward the ceiling in burst of movement. The Dread Wolf scrambled as he and Sael gripped the stone walls of the tunnel they came in through. A gesture from her and they were launched up again, flailing through the air and tumbling through a dead field of grain. The night sky was filled with glistening stars and bands of celestial clouds. Paired moons of Thedas had just begun to rise.

Solas was first to rally enough to speak. "Sael...Sael!" He hollered when she didn't answer. He rushed over on hands and knees where she lay, "Sael, answer me!"

A heaving cough and gasping breaths. "Sharkû's sake..." Sael panted, rolling over to gather up her frayed senses. "Solas...I am so sorry. I knew that-" She was cut off by the elvhen yanking her into a tight embrace. "Solas..."

"You're alive," Solas whispered exhaustively into her shoulder. "All would have been lost." He released her only to pull her to her feet. "We must get back to the Hinterlands and find alternatives."

Passing soldiers happily traded their horses when confronted with the Herald of Andraste. They poured their story of tragedy that plagued them among the ramparts and rifts. Sael promised to return with the full weight of the Inquisition in exchange for the horses. The first leg of the ride was in silence as they attempted to put as much distance between them and angry spirits left beneath the Exalted Plains. They slowed as they skirted Emprise Du Lion. The choice to ride on past Haven to the Hinterlands or stop and rest in their meager seat of power. Solas offered a counter suggestion. A castle fortress, his own in the Frostback mountains. Skyhold.

The castle was starting to signs of age. Crumbling walls and wild life roaming the courtyard. Sael stabled the horses and found Solas standing at the gates. "It's been a long ride already." She struggled to find words. "Are you alright?"

"As Fen'Harel I strived to free the People from the tyranny of the Evanuris." He sighed, staring out beyond the gates. "In that choice I sealed the Fade and them behind the Veil. It cost the People everything. The very essence of their beings." He shifted. "And now I learn that it nearly killed the spirit of Thedas herself."

Sael took to standing next to the ancient elf. "Solas, I have know Thedas a long time. She's going to be alright. Honestly, sealing the Fade, it was like taking a child's favorite toy. She didn't care about any of the people. Only about what they took."

"That somehow absolves me of the sin?" Solas shook his head.

"No." Sael answered unwillingly. "But trying to make it right does in a way. Not everyone is going to be happy with the Fade gone, and not a lot are going to be thrilled about its return." Sael turned to face him, a hand gently clasped around his arm. "Solas, there are far too many people in this world to make them all happy. At most you can try and hope it works out. The trick is to know when to stop."

"..."

Light begun to sink behind the mountains. "We should rest and head for the Hinterlands tomorrow. We have been gone nearly four days and I don't recall us leaving a note for Cassandra and Varric." Solas sounded worn out, more so than an exhaustion from running for their lives. An old weight on his shoulders that seemed to have just gained a couple hundred more pounds.

Sael could think of no comfort to offer that wouldn't sound empty on the surface. She stood on her toes to place a gentle kiss on Solas's cheek. "We'll keep trying. Just one thing at a time. Breach first." She slid her hand down his arm as she pulled away and went to find a place to sleep for the night.

Cassandra's leg bounced up and down rapidly as she tried to remain calm. They had stayed at the horsemaster's house until Sael and Solas would return. They had to return, she was the spirit of the Deep Roads and he was an apostate that mastered spirits and the Fade. They would come back. The Breach still loomed in the sky, even if it stopped growing. Watchtowers were quickly erected and the bandits buried under Inquisition soldiers. Leliana's ravens were arriving regularly at the camp just at the edge of Dennet's farm. News was unchanging for the most part. Word had arrived two days prior that the Chantry was going to be holding a public speech in Val Royeaux in a week. The deadline to make it was quickly approaching and still not a scrap of news of or from Sael and Solas. He leg bounced harder.

"Seeker!" Varric called desperately, thudding his tankard down. "Maker's balls you're going to put a hole in the floor at that rate."

"Where could they have gone?!" Cassandra was becoming less successful about masking her panic. This was entirely unprofessional. "No note, word or even a hint to where they've gone."

Varric sighed and took an extra mug filling it with mead. "Here." He pushed it into Cassandra's hands. "Seeker, you've got to breath. Worrying isn't going to make them come any faster."

Cassandra groaned in disgust. She took a drink. "Were it not for the mark, I'd have Sael's head on a platter when she comes back."

The dwarf snorted. "You know we have been keeping busy helping people out here. It's not like our time has been wasted. We'd be doing the same thing if they were here."

"It's not the point." Cassandra took another drink. Her leg begun to slow. "Varric, am I not trustworthy?"

"Don't go doubting yourself, Seeker." Varric chuckled into his own drink. "It's not attractive when you shoot down your best feature."

Cassandra felt time stop only for a brief second. She let the comment pass. "Ugh ...if those two show up by dark..."

"How about a little wager?" Varric sat his drink down. "If Solas and Sael both show up together by dark, I get to play twenty questions with you."

"If I win and they don't?" Cassandra was unsure what the dwarf was up to.

Varric thought for a long moment. "Only fair thing I can think of...I'll wait on you hand and foot for an entire day. Even spend my coin on you."

"You don't have any." Cassandra huffed.

"Is that challenge Seeker?"

"Fine." Cassandra sat the tankard down and rose. "By sundown we'll see who's the winner. I'll have you know I prefer to wake at sunrise to train."

Varric smirked. "And I have a list ready."

Dwarf and warrior sat beside each other next to a small campfire. The sun had just begun to sink when Varric pointed into the distance by the Inquisition's camp. "Know what that is?"

"What?"

"Nineteen more questions on two pairs of legs." Varric roared with laughter as Cassandra sat dumbfounded. Solas and Sael were in fact, walking up Dennet's road.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoping for less of a delay now that Fallow Mire and Hinterlands 'done'. Have visitors coming to town soon and that will consume a decent chunk of time. Next chapter will have some new OC's coming in. Plot & romance should be picking up soon. Let me know how you guys are liking this so far.

Sael sat quietly at the Dennet's table as Cassandra paced, fuming, in front of her. The Seeker was livid that once again Sael had ran off without a word. The lack of trust, the audacity of the whole matter. Solas had tried to interject once or twice about Sael being an independent woman, a spirit, and that Cassandra was overreacting to the situation. A scathing glare silenced the elvhen when his last word fell off his tongue. Cassandra weaved several colorful words amongst her reprimands. Sael kept quiet, letting the Seeker get everything off her chest. She stole a single glance at Varric. The look on his face spoke almost louder than Cassandra herself. 'Don't look at me, you got yourself into this. I can't save you.'. Sael's replying expression: 'My hero.'. The spirit opened her mouth to offer a likely empty promise she would eventually remember well after it was broken again.

Cassandra held a hand up, averting her eyes from Sael. "No. I don't want another promise." She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "The last one didn't hold up very well."

Varric leaned back in his chair, hands clasped behind his head. "Well...?" He waited to see if Sael understood his implied question. "Did your adventure bare any fruit?"

"Not exactly." Sael spoke with caution at first. Seeing that Cassandra resigned herself to angry pacing she continued on. "I took Solas, as backup to a meeting." She nodded toward Varric. "The spirits idea you had. I went ahead with it, just not...publicly. It ended rather violently." Solas chuckled quietly at the wet bar at the other end of the table. "I don't think Ferelden, Por Vollen, Antiva and Orlais know who is behind the Breach."

"That isn't all the nations of Thedas though." Cassandra cooled enough to contribute to the change of topic. "That of Tevinter, Nevarra, or even the Free Marches?"

Sael shook her finger at Cassandra. "Nevarra and Free Marches didn't show, same for others but Tevinter did show up."

Varric and Cassandra sounded identical groans of disgust.

"Sael." Solas returned to the table, handing a cup to her and one for himself. "There was that exchange between Thedas and Tevinter. The look they shared. I believe it may have some bearing on the Breach. Both looked concerned and determined, not confused to angry as the others were."

Sael recalled the memory, playing her kin's faces over and over again in her mind. Tevinter and Thedas did have a moment just as Solas said. "You're right. Varric." She called the dwarf's attention from examining his fingernails. "If someone was sniffing around your operations, would you be nervous, scared. Or just be ready to handle business?"

"Depends." Varric groaned, leaning forward. "Are we talking veteran smuggler or some wet behind the ear kid?"

"Vet."

Varric sucked air through his teeth. "Ooo, ready for business. I've never heard of seasoned smugglers or traffickers panic at someone just skirting their dealings."

Cassandra stopped, arms crossing. "So spirits of Tevinter and Thedas might be plotting. That's hardly a reason to attack Minrathous. How would we even wage war on Thedas itself? Go out into the wilds and wildly stab the ground? Burn the trees, what good will that do?"

"Who said anything about war just yet? We don't have a foundation or even the bodies needed to do anything. Even something as ridiculous as stabbing the ground everywhere." Sael slouched forward, her head hanging from her shoulders. "I agreed to help you close the Breach and deal with the guy who made it. Nothing more."

Solas cleared his throat. "Someone, likely a mage, would have to be incredibly powerful to create the Breach. Aside the Breach, that sort of power usually accompanies someone in a position of power."

"...Fuck."

"Welcome to the heroes life." Varric raised a nonexistent mug to toast Sael. "So sounds like something very Tevinter-y is running amok."

Cassandra huffed in annoyance. "That man speaking through the memories at the Temple of Sacred Ashes."

The shadows danced against the candle's flickering light. Amladaris stared into his personal well of power waiting for a familiar voice to call out to him. Silence had since filled the chamber hours ago leaving him alone to ponder his thoughts and schemes. Something shifted in the darkness beyond his ring of candles. Scrapping, sounds of leather and bone dragging over themselves.

"My Lord." Amladaris called out in a hushed whisper. "I am here and ready for your words."

"I see you High Priest, growing fat on my direction and scraps from my table." A voice answered back. The smell of decay and blood seeping into the darkness. The presence of a god would have broken any other. "I grow impatient, Priest."

Amladaris froze, his breath hitching in his throat. "...My Lord Dumat, I have done all you asked. The gift from your aycolte was most gracious."

"Perhaps to gracious." Dumat slithered again. The voice moving beyond his body to wind around Amladaris's head. "I gifted you that crumb so that you would bring my empire back to the glory it once held. Or should I turn to another, someone more ... capable?"

"I am worthy, my Lord." Amladaris defended himself. "The anchor has been found and even now my forces amass to reclaim it."

A hiss shot through the air, wind burst forth extinguishing the candles. Dumat's breath hot and putrid on Amladaris's face. "They are only your forces should they fail." The pressure and heat began to withdraw. "Do not fail me Priest, otherwise your bones will be better suited to pick my teeth."

"I shan't fail, my Lord Dumat." Amladaris gripped his power in hand. He couldn't tell which emotion it was that made him tremble. He had forgotten them all so long ago.

El'u Arla had once again grown quiet since Sael had left in a hurry. The other spirits of nations had long since abandoned the feasting hall to return to their respective homes. Two remained in the enchanted hall, circling back and forth around the fire pit. Tevinter rarely liked being anywhere for long that didn't have a roaring audience applauding every breath he took. For once something was in need of his attention more so than his ego. His need for power. He coasted over the wooden floor to his co conspirators.

"Fare well have you?" Tevinter looked over the exhausted Thedas.

The world's spirit nodded. "Yes, it seems I have spurred our pawn into speeding things up."

"Lovely." Tevinter plucked a wisp of energy from a writhing servant at his feet. "Soon Tevinter will reign in its rightful place and you will have your precious Fade back where it belongs."

"So long your people keep their meddling to a minimum we should get along just fine." Thedas half-heartedly hissed at the male spirit.

Tevinter popped the bit of energy into his mouth and groaned in pleasure. A serpent's smile crept on his face as he turned back to Thedas. "To a minimum, yes. I have, after all, be promised the Black City."

"Promised on my honor." Thedas stared into the fire with an impassive face.

Tevinter shrugged and shook his head chuckling. "Promises, quaint. It seems those are a copper a dozen lately. I'd hate to see you break your word."

"Would you though?"

An Inquisition soldier came running up the dirt road of Dennet's farm, a parchment clenched in his fist. He skidded to a halt in front of the Herald and her companions nearly tumbling over himself. Between heaving breaths he handed over the paper and explained. A group of Inquisition soldiers had been captured south of the Hinterlands in the Fallow Mire. Sael and the others were the closest force to be able to respond in an attempt to save them. There wasn't much of a discussion on the matter. The organization was far too young to turn a blind eye to a single party of soldiers. They mounted as fast as the soldier had ran, yanking horses to face down the road. With a swift kick, they bolted down the dirt path. The Fallow Mire was a days hard ride almost directly south. The closer they got, the more the weather began to turn. Soon the group found themselves in blackened sky and a constant heavy rain that sank cold down to the bone.

Sael only pulled up on her horse when they crossed the threshold of the Inquisition's main camp. She dropped out of the saddle and let a soldier take the reigns. "Hardin," She greeted the scout dwarf. "We meet in the strangest places. A bog this time."

“It can only get better from here.” Hardin shrugged trying to brush off the worry on her face. The dwarf looked past the Herald and back at the elf in front of her. “The soldiers stationed here were ambushed and taken hostage. There hasn’t been any word from them since they vanished.”

“I don’t mind a bit of hunting but I best get on it.” Sael gave Hardin a comforting pat on the shoulder before starting off the rain soaked road. The spirit knew roads, it was part of her core being. These were more like paths stomped out by marching footfall rather than intelligent design. Even the haphazard bridges over the water seem to be there by accident.

There was very little said by the group as they trekked through ankle high mud and rain water. Varric was the only one to make any sound in the form of disapproving groans each time his foot sank a bit deeper than he would have liked. It wasn’t until Cassandra’s foot slipped from the path to break the surface of the water did anyone realize why this place was so empty. Any disturbance of the water drew out undead from the murky black depths. Even faster, not to take them on in the swamp. Solas’s fire was barely able to burn away the corpses from swarming a top Cassandra. The Seeker was left to pace at the shores edge waiting on any that got past Varric and Solas. Even Sael’s magic had a limit in the surface world. Cassandra eventually gave up and went to stand brooding next to Sael.

“Do you plan on to continue to run off every chance you get?” Cassandra grumbled a loud.

Sael crossed her arms over her chest, tilting her head to get a better look at the Seeker’s face. “Why, plan on fitting me with a collar if I do?”

Cassandra let out an iconic groan. “No.” She took a deep breath, still watching Varric and Solas work. “I simply mean … What would it take for you to trust Varric and I to watch your back? We could have been of help.”

“Nothing personal,” Sael shook her head. “It’s a matter of effectiveness. When dealing with a room loaded with spirits, let alone ones of countries and civilizations, take the right tool.”

“...”

“If I wanted them expertly sliced to pieces or bashed to nothing more than a stain, I would have taken you with me. Or have them talked out of their every possession and be thrilled about it, Varric is my first pick.”

“Take an elf who has spent his life studying the Fade and spirits to a meeting with extremely powerful spirits.” Cassandra did nothing to hide the sneer on her face.

Sael nodded. “Like I said.” She started walking again as Solas and Varric finished. “Nothing personal, Seeker.”

Solas walked past to catch up to Sael leaving Varric to match Cassandra’s pace. “Trouble, Seeker?”

“Adjusting.”

The path lead them to a mound raised up from the swamps waters. A single stone pillar with a brazier on one side and a tablet on the other. Solas skimmed over the words as the others waited with baited breath for his translation. He summed it up as nothing noteworthy. Sael didn’t wait for discussion regarding the veilfire. Solas mentioned having heard of it but not having come across in his travels. It was a part of his cover, there was no doubt in Sael’s mind that he had more experience with the veilfire than he let on. A torch was lit and quickly followed by a shrieking scream in the distance. Quickly dropping it the group readied for an attack. The beacon called the undead from the water to converge on it. Envy demons lunged into action from the shadows. Shambling corpses made their way to the living on the mound. A spare few still armed with bows and arrows.

Varric cleared a space and begun picking off the dead furthest from them. Cassandra roared into combat, each swing of her sword took limbs or a head. Solas maintained barriers on everyone while providing support magic to pick off those that would take advantage of an opening. Sael had been itching for a fight since the Hinterlands and was more than happy to bring the earth to bear against the demons. They managed to make quick work of their attackers.

“Well now we know what the brazier does.” Varric hefted Bianca up a bit. “We can use it to clear the path back.”

“We have to make sure it’s safe for our soldiers to make their way back.”  
Cassandra wiped sweat from her forehead. “Otherwise they will attacked all over again.”

Sael nodded. They took off again, further down the road they found a second beacon pillar. It reacted the same way as the previous one had. It was managed the same as well. Camp was made shortly afterward though Sael and the others choose not to stop. Pressing on they found a rift swirling just out of reach in the air. No demons or undead milled underneath. What remained on its edge was a member of the Avvar. He shouldered a giant war hammer and slowly let his gaze from the rift down to Sael standing just in front of him.

“So.” The avvar turned fully to face her. “You’re the Herald of Andraste. My kin want you dead, lowlander.” He smirked. “But it’s not my job. No fears from me.”

“You’re a long way from the other avvar.” Sael looked around, nothing gave away forces in hiding or even having been there recently. “Who are you?”

“I am Sky Watcher.” The avvar squared his shoulders back proudly. He looked to the rift with a disgruntled expression. “Trying to figure out this hole in the world. Never seen anything like it.” Sky Watcher and his hammer shifted nervously. “They spit out angry spirits. Endless. What’s the sky trying to tell us, I do not know.”

Sael agreed quietly. “I’m not fond of them either. They’re caused by the Breach in the sky. Some magic gone wrong I’m told.”

Sky Watcher chuckled. “I know that lowlander. I’m talking about the Lady in the Sky.” Sael made a mental note to try and find the spirit tied to the belief. The avvar man went on. “Do you not know her. Can’t you see the warning she writes through the bird flocks in the air.”

“Just another way to read the same information.” Solas added from the back of the group.

“Read it whichever way you want, elf. I see my Lady’s words.” Sky Watcher grunted.

Sael quickly changed subject. “I thought the avvar here were looking for a fight. They captured my soldiers after all.”

“Your men are safe, killed more of us than I expected.” Sky Watched returned his focus on Sael. “Our chieftain's son wants to fight you. I’m called in when the dead pile up.”

“...” Sael glanced at her companions.

Sky Watcher didn’t need to try hard to see the distrust. “Rites to the gods. Mending for the bleeding. A dagger for the dying. That’s what I do.”

“I can get behind that.” Sael approved.

“I wouldn’t, the hammer doesn’t stop just because I can’t see it.” Sky Watcher chuckled darkly. “I don’t pick up a blade for a whelp’s trophy hunt.

Sael looked over at the rift slowly shifting around itself. Had anyone not known better, it could have been considered harmless. A gentle green wispy mass pulsing in place in the air. Not a gate that could at any point spew demons and monsters from its maw. Like the rift at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, it needed to be open and closed properly to vanish. Sael raised her marked hand and let the power surge. Connection broke and scattered mounds of similar energy throbbed at in a perimeter around the rift. Just as quickly as they formed, demons sprung forth. All to be slaughtered by the group. One demon survived the initial wave of death only to have its head slammed into its chest by Sky Watcher’s great hammer. Sael again connected mark and rift to seal it shut for good.

Sky Watch finished collecting his hammer. “Lady of the Skies, you can mend the gaps in the air! Maybe you do have the gods favor.”

“Hardly.” Sael smirked. “May your gods be with you and that we meet again someday.”

Everyone quickly regrouped and started on their way again. A short ways down the road they came to a bridge broken in several places and most of all of it sunk in the bog’s water. Breaking the surface was impossible to avoid this time, and everyone agreed on a mad dash as to not finding themselves in unnecessary combat. Their mistake was quickly realized as they saw the next beacon and brazier just up the hill they ran up. The summoned undead continued to shuffle towards the living as they took the high ground. The fates seemed to give them a break as only a pair followed them enough to be considered relentless. Varric and Solas dispatched the undead with barely a flick of the wrist. Now they were left with the third beacon. 

Sael lit the brazier and illuminated the rune. There was no time to read the tablet there, demons shrieked just as before. What lunged for wasn’t the same envy demons they had been dealing with but the slightly larger kin, lesser terror demons. Sael called out the change letting the other be aware that these were a bit harder and more dangerous than the envy demons. Solas traded barriers for ice mines and turning a shield into a trap. One of the lesser terrors found itself bound within a barrier, writhing, kicking and screaming like a banshee against the translucent energy. With one contained for a time, the group turned its focus on the remaining demon. Varric’s bolts turned and twisted it round and round again with each impact. Sael called forth a stalagmite from the ground beneath the demon. The stone’s point shot upward, skewering the monster. It screamed, frantically clawing at the air with talons and claws before fragmenting into nothing.

The second terror demon finally managed to break free of Solas’s barrier only to find the ancient elvhen’s staff speared through it’s chest. It broke apart and faded like it’s kin. Sael looked at the beacon with as much disdain as she could muster. They maybe clearing out demons and dead, but in the long run it was slowing them down. In all things, at that moment she wanted to be sprinting to the captured soldiers. There was no praise passed around, each of them knew the value of their own work and started off again.

It was a narrow path over small islands of sediment. The group’s feet sank and tripped them several times before finally finding solid ground again. The path opened to a larger island and yet another beacon. It was a repeat of the other three. Demons and undead, all crushed beneath the weight of annoyance and boredom. Once the was clear again they ran along the path, past the ruins of a fortress that were rapidly becoming more common. Blasted out walls, crumbling decorations and giant links of chains still anchored to their controls on the other side. Even large sections of towers and additional buildings could be seen. Sael paid little attention beyond a passing glance. They rushed past the undead milling at the entrance of the castle.

Just inside was avvar tribesmen, the sight of the herald was enough to immediately draw their attention. Axes and swords were raised, demands for her head barked from every corner of the destroyed courtyard. A wooden staircase wound up the side the right side, turning sharply to what remained of the second level of the castle. Two avvar bowmen found themselves on the wrong end of a pair of jagged stone gauntlets on Sael’s arms. She drove both into both of their faces and continued ahead. Up another set of wooden stairs and into the remains of the exploded open halls of the second floor they found a level that controlled the portcullis. Throwing the level closed the main gate and opened the inner portcullis. Sael raised enough earth to make it safe for the group to hop the railing of the catwalk and be lowered to the ground. They rushed ahead, leaving no avvar or undead behind them alive to intervene.

Beyond was the remains of a stone road leading up to the heart of the fortress. A small group of avvar were caught by surprise as Solas’s ice mine exploded beneath them, leaving them corpses on icy stalagmites. Still onward they pressed. Yet another staircase, this one made of stone. Sael begged the universe that it was the last to come across in this rain soaked forsaken land.

Before they all could cross the threshold of the shell of the main hall a voice boomed from within it’s depths. “Herald of Andraste! Face me!” An avvar, standing taller than all the others raised a giant hammer and begun charging the group. “I am the hand of Korth himself!”

The chieftain’s son was flanked by two burly avvar warriors. All three dressed in heavily painted pelts and horns. Muscle’s bulged with every swing of their weapons. One, underestimating his enemies, was caught off guard by a spike speared through his head. The son and remaining defended were unwavered by their kin’s death. The second defender misstepped right into the path of the son’s hammer. He went flying backward to become little more than a smear on the nearest wall. Sael’s earthen armor was enough to hold the attacks at bay, but nothing more. So much of her attention was in defense that she was unable to commit much of anything into offense.

Varric was able to provide cover fire for Cassandra to run up the son’s side. Every bolt just didn’t seem to have an effect on the behemoth of a man. He bled but it only seemed to anger him into more savage attacks. It wasn’t until Varric dove into a second quiver of bolts that they began to see the avvar son start to slow. Even still, it wasn’t quite enough to allow Sael and Cassandra to go on a full offensive attack. Solas summoned up ice to grip the man’s feet and ankles, only last a few seconds or so before he ripped the accosted limb free. The chieftain’s son faltered for a moment, just enough to catch his breath. It was enough for Cassandra’s trained eye to thrust her sword up through his lower jaw and the top of his skull. The avvar son froze before slowly collapsing to his knees and slumping over in death.

As if on queue, Sky Watcher came nonchalantly strolling through the front of the hall. Hammer lazily set on his shoulder. “Your gods look after you, Herald.”

Sael dropped to sit hard on the ground. Solas rushing up to catch her from falling backwards. He knelt down behind her, letting his thigh support her back. She brushed the back of her knuckles against his chest, an appreciative smile. Solas returned it before resuming his cold expression. Sael looked back to Sky Watcher. “...If that’s what you want to call it.” She smirked.

Sky Watcher came closer, looking past to see Cassandra putting a boot to the son’s head and pulling her sword free. “There lies the brat.” He did nothing to hide his smile. “His father, Chief of our Holding, would duel me for the loss, if he cared enough.”

“Exceptional parenting.” Sael chuckled as Solas pulled her to her feet. “You know, we always are looking for good help. Even have a right and proper cause to fight for.”

The avvar hm’ed quietly for a moment. “Is this why the Lady of the Skies led me here? To help heal the wounds in her skin?”

“No one else seems to have it as a priority right now.” Varric stepped up. Elbowing Cassandra with a devilish smirk.

Sky Watcher nodded. “Aye, I’ll join you. Let me make peace with my kin. And I’ll find where you place your flag.”

“Very little would make me happier.” Sael clasped arms with Sky Watcher, pulling back to thump her fist to her chest in respect.

Sky Watcher pointed to a door off the side of the absent throne. Behind it was the captured soldiers, alive and as well as they could be. They were dumbfounded that it was the Herald of Andraste herself and her companions that had come to rescue them. They cheered among themselves and followed after the Herald. They parted ways as they all eventually reached the first camp in the Fallow Mire. Hardin was relieved to see the soldiers alive. She assured Sael and the others that she would get the soldiers taken care off and on their way back to Haven on the next caravan. With everything in order Sael and the others mounted up and took off on horseback to Haven.

Still a day out from Haven Sael approach a brooding and silent Cassandra. “Hold those reigns any tighter and the horse might call you ‘daddy’.”

A very audible choking sound came from Varric and Solas a head of them. Neither turned but quickened their walk into a slow trot. Cassandra couldn’t stop the bloom from filling her face. “I would never…” She groaned in annoyance. “...Did I do the right thing? What I have set in motion here could destroy everything I have revered my whole life.”

Sael listened carefully. Cassandra had been so closed off since they first met and even then that wasn’t under the best circumstances. “...”

“One day they may write about me as a traitor, a mad-woman, a fool.” She slouched in the saddle, lessening her grip on the reigns. “And they may be right.”

“I didn’t see anyone else rushing to deal with the Breach. I saw stuffy old men and women in bad robes rushing to see who the next barn dance queen was. It was the right thing to do at the time.” Sael offered. “Damn what future writers may think. You’re living this, they will only write what they hear through Tevinter Whispers.”

Cassandra let a small smirk escape er gim countenance. “Faith guided me when I made the choice, just as it guides me know.”

“Maps are easier to follow.” Sael gestured to the road ahead. “But what is your faith telling you now?”

“That you are innocent, that more is going on than we can see.” Cassandra rolled a shoulder. “And I believe no one else cares enough to do anything about it.” A silent chuckle. “They will stand in the fire and complain that it is hot.”

“I take it, common sense isn’t a strong point in the Chantry clerics.” Sael snorted, adjusting to sit more comfortably.

Cassandra nodded with a warmer smile. “It is not as common as I would like. So wrapped up in their holy work, at times they forget to help those who are actually struggling. But is this,” the warrior waved a hand outward to encompass everything. “The Maker’s will? I can only guess.”

“So what’s the next step, mom?” Sael teased the Seeker a bit.

Cassandra groaned again, loudly. “Maker’s breath, please don’t call me ‘mom’. It might give Varric some funny ideas.” She eyed the back of the dwarf’s head for a long moment. “First we need to deal with the Chantry’s panic over you. Seal the Breach and then find out who is responsible.”

“I like it. Nothing to complicated or difficult to deal with.” Sael’s sarcasm was thick in her tone.

“My trainers always said ‘Cassandra you must think before you act. You are too brash’. I see what must be done and I do it.” Cassandra dropped the reigns and let the horse walk itself. A hand rested on the hilt of her sword. “I see no point in running around like a dog chasing it’s tail.”

Sael shook her head. “Solas would know a thing or two about chasing tails.” She muttered under her breath.

“What?”

Sael waved the question off. “Sorry, bit of spirit humor. It’s not a bad way to be so long you know it’s something you do. You can turn that into an advantage.”

“I misjudged you in the beginning, did I not?”

An eyebrow perked up. “Please, I wasn’t exactly friendly and I was the only living thing to walk out of an explosion that killed everyone else. Being suspected right away was better than being killed for it just as fast.”

A lull crept between them as Cassandra’s focus fell inward on her thoughts.

“You said you don’t believe you were chosen.” Cassandra picked her words carefully. “You are the spirit of the Deep Roads and know the spirits of countries. Does that mean you don’t believe in the Maker?”

It was Sael’s turn to consider carefully. “Cassandra…” She paused again, biting at her lower lip. “I won’t say the man doesn’t exist. But I will add to that is, I really doubt that he does in the sense everyone wants him to. The Chantry is vast, followers across all of Thedas, and that sort of belief can give rise to spirits.”

Cassandra was silent. Waiting.

“I see it like this.” Sael continued. “There is a power in a room where everyone is chanting the same. The hearts and minds focused together on a singular thing that a single action like that can give rise to a spirit. I only hope that it’s a kind one, it would be the culmination of everyone’s belief. To include those that use the Maker’s existence to control and abuse others.”

“I choose to believe in a kind Maker.” Cassandra spoke, mainly to herself as if to reaffirm her own beliefs and contribute to the spirit Sael painted for her.

Sael looked to the road ahead, past Solas and Varric. “One can only hope so.”

“Now we only have to see where it takes us.” Cassandra spurred her horse to catch up with the others.


	9. Chapter 9

There was barely enough time to even stop and eat before Sael was called to the war room. The heads of the Inquisition had come together to discuss their next move. Sael entered only to find them at a disagreement. The four other occupants in the room could see the displeasure on her face.

“I am less than five minutes out of the saddle after a long ass ride.” Sael growled in annoyance. “Let’s get to it.”

Josphine picked up the conversation back up where they left off. “Having the Herald address the clerics is not a terrible idea.”

“You can’t be serious.” Commander Cullen jabbed back in disbelief.”

“Mother Giselle isn’t wrong,” Josphine shot back. Her quill dotting the air toward Cullen. “At the moment, the Chantry’s only strength is that they are united in opinion.”

Leliana shook her head, glancing once at Sael. “And we should ignore the danger to the Herald.”

“Stop with the ‘Herald’ bit, please.” Sael groaned under her breath.

The four turned to Sael. “What do you think...Sael.” Josphine asked, hesitant to use another’s first name so freely.

Sael thought for a moment. Talk could easily destroy the Inquisition in the stage it was in now. That took ignoring them out of the question. Something had to be done. She looked up at the anxious faces before her. “...Sneaking in only proves their paranoia, can’t have that. I think it would be best to go in front door, if you will.”

“It’s daring.” Cullen added.

“Ballsy, more like it.” Leliana snickered. “But she has a point.”

Cassandra stepped up to the table, “I will go with her.” Turning to Leliana, “Mother Giselle said she could provide names? Use them.”

“But why?” Leliana’s face twisted a bit. “This is nothing but a-”

“What choice do we have, Leliana?” Cassandra cut in, pleading for a better suggestion from anyone who had one. “Right now we can’t approach anyone for help with the Breach.”

The room fell silent, the crackling from torches being the only sound to fill the room. Cullen and the other two women nodded.

“Use what influence we have to call the clerics together.” Cassandra pulling what order she could from the chaos of the divided opinions. “Once they are ready, we will see this through.”

Josphine took a deep breath and left, jotting away on her stack of parchment. Work had already begun. Leliana and Cullen both excused themselves to handle their end of the task at hand. Cassandra gave Sael a comforting pat on the shoulder before leaving the elf spirit alone with the war table. It was a modest table, maps of Thedas stretched it’s surface with miniature figurines scattered over it. Some placed on the few key positions the Inquinistion held and others toppled over and waiting.

Sael took a piece in hand, turning it over to look at it. “Thousands of years in existence and I have been reduced to playing war with game pieces. Each with a very real cost behind them.” It was placed back among the others carefully as if dropping it would bring fresh news of death.

Evening had set and most of the residents of Haven had shuffled off to bed. Guards leaned against their polearms in efforts to remain awake. Patrol moved back and forth in habit formed trails. Varric stretched and tossed the last of the kindling into the fire. He rose and started his search for a place to sleep for the night. As he walked he noticed the tents just past Haven’s buildings all dark save one. Someone else was still awake. Curiosity took the need for sleep right out from under him. He barely pushed back a flap to see Cassandra slouched over, face in her hands, fingers gripped around the circlet braid of her hair. First thought was to turn and resume his search. Second, and more tempting, thought was to go in. He settled for clearing his throat.

Cassandra’s head snapped up, her face rapidly changing from shock to annoyance. “What do you want, Varric?” She hissed.

“Saw a light and thought I had some company for the night.” Varric defended, stepping in just enough to fully push back the tent flap.

“I’m not so reader who’s going to throw myself at you simply because you choose to grace me with your attention for a night.” Cassandra sneered, sitting straighter.

Varric snorted and shook his head. “Do you think so little of me, Seeker? On Andraste’s garter, I was just looking to see who else was struggling with sleep.”

“...” Cassandra leveled an analyzing glare at the dwarf before letting out a heavy sigh. “Fine, come in if you must.”

Varric took the offer and the stool left in the tent. “Rough day?”

Cassandra shook her head. “Try month, yes, it has been difficult.”

“When I come to a block in my stories,” Varric leaned forward, elbows on his knees and hands opening to the Seeker. “I find the best solution is to put my characters in unexpected situations.”

“I’m not one of your creations.” Cassandra tried to sound more upset than she was.

Varric nodded. “True, if you were, I might have had you less self doubting.”

“...”

“Talk to me, what else you got right now?” Varric offered.

Another sigh. “If it makes you leave faster.” Cassandra roughly rubbed her face before settling on her cot. “This Inquisition is so new that all it would take to bring it all crashing down is one bad incident. Sael taking off at the wrong moment, or her flying off the handle at the wrong cleric. Being attacked here at Haven.”

Varric nodded several times. “You can’t control everything around you, just yourself and what belongs to you. Trust me, I’ve seen what happens to people who bite off more than they can chew.”

“How am I supposed to seal the Breach if the very group established to do that can’t survive the first month?” Cassandra felt pressure slowly falling off her shoulders. “I begged you for Hawke and now we have Sael. She doesn’t even trust us enough to tell us she needs to leave or accomplish something. If she dies than our only-”

“Seeker!” Varric interrupted. “Seeker, you can’t make Sael do anything. I doubt even Chuckles could. She is very much her own world. But she comes back doesn’t she?”

Cassandra grunted. “What if she doesn’t the next time?”

“Can you predict the future?” Varric let a smirk creep on his face. “Is that some secret rite of the Seekers of Truth?”

“No.”

Varric sat back, clasping his hands together. “There you go, you can’t and there is no sense in worrying yourself into madness over it. Somethings you just have to leave with the Maker and hope he’s in a good mood.”

“Varric,” Cassandra’s voice softened enough to raise an eyebrow on the dwarf. “Why do you stay?”

He pawed the back of his neck. “Andraste, help me.” He was quiet for a long moment. “Honestly, I could leave and go back to Kirkwall and pretend this shit isn’t happening.”

“But you’re staying?” Cassandra pressed again.

“I’m not good at pretending and now that I’ve seen what’s going on,” Varric shook his head, looking at the ground. “I can’t chalk the truth up the wild exaggerations of merchants and the bored members of the aristocracy. Sleep is hard enough as it is, I go home and I doubt I’ll sleep again knowing I turned my back on something where I can make a difference.”

Cassandra seemed to lighten up before Varric’s eyes. She could feel a yoke being pulled off her shoulders. “Thank you, Varric.”

The dwarf stood, pushing his knuckles into his back. He put on his most charming smile and saluted Cassandra with two quick fingers. “Keep your chin up, Cassandra. No one here thinks you made the wrong choice.” With that he turned and slipped out of the tent.

“He called me by my name.” Cassandra whispered to herself in surprise. A smile quickly taking place of the words. Perhaps Varric wasn’t as bad as she suspected.

It was a caravan run to the Waking Sea, much nicer than just horseback. Sael, Varric and Solas spent their time in a wagon. Cassandra was intent on remaining with the guards protecting them. They had received word two days prior that the clerics were gathering in Val Royeaux. Undoubtedly they would be there first and begin the talks publicly, it was going to be an uphill battle for Sael and the Inquisition. Another two days on boat before they landed in the port city of Val Royeaux. Sael and her companions entered the city together leaving their escorting soldiers behind on the docks.

Val Royeaux was an opulent city. White plaster walls and pillars. Golden lions of Orlais perched throughout the marketplace. Vibrantly colored flowers and plants sprung from every flowerbed. Gold trim bannisters and silver gates. Barges and fishing boats bobbing in the waters with the days catches being hauled ashore. Vendors that normally called out to passersby were strangely silent that day. The only viable reason that presented itself was the gathering crowd near an alley entrance. A top a wooden platform were a few members of the Chantry preaching to the audience.

The sounds of bells hung in the air. Cassandra sighed. “The city still mourns.”

Sael could hear the faint voices in the distance as she and the companions walked into Val Royeaux. One woman noticed them, stopping dead in her tracks. She gasped and nearly stumbled hurryin away from them.

Varric chuckled. “Just a guess, Seeker, but I think they all know who we are.”

“Your skills of observation never fail to impress me, Varric.” Cassandra answered back less bitter than he would have expected.

They were met at the main gate by one of their soldiers assigned to greet them. “My Lord Herald.” She went down to a knee.

“You’re one of Leliana’s people.” Cassandra nodded. “What have you found?”

She looked nervous. “The Chantry Mothers await you...but so do a great many Templars.”

“There are Templar’s here?” Cassandra looked around hoping to spy one.

“A mage is being called the Herald of Andraste,” Solas looked further into Val Royeaux with a mild sneer. “Can’t say I’m surprised they’ve come as well.”

“People seem to think the Templars will protect them…” The scout stole a glance at Sael before continuing. “From the Inquisition. They’re gathering on the other side of the market. I think that’s where the Templars intend to meet you.”

Cassandra thanked the scout and moved past her. “Only one thing to do, then.”

“Blast their armor with fire till they cook on the inside.” Sael offered with a mocking tone.

The Seeker groaned loudly.

“I don’t have enough time to cook them thoroughly.” Solas added with a cheeky smile.

The four picked up their pace as they headed further into Val Royeaux. Cassandra was growling with every step. “They wish to protect the people? From us?!” The notion insulted her down to her very core. It was a harrowing feeling to be perceived as the villain for a change.

“Scary idols coming to take attention from the Chantry.” Sael mocked the fear, a smirk plastered on her face. “Maker forbid we start housing the homeless. They’d think we were lining them up for sacrifices in blood magic.”

Cassandra visibly shuddered. “Don’t jest, you might give them ideas. I just didn’t expect the Templars to make an appearance.”

“The people maybe just assuming what the Templars will do.” The scout cut in as she fell in behind them. “I have head no concrete plans.”

Varric raised his hands up, shoulders dramatically shrugging. “You think the Order’s return to the fold, maybe? To deal with us upstarts.”

Cassandra cast a mournful glance at Varric. “I know Lord Seeker Lucius. I can’t imagine him coming to the Chantry’s defense, not after all that has occurred.”

The group swallowed a collective oppressive silence.

“Return to Haven.” The Seeker waved off the scout. “Someone will need to inform them if we are … delayed.” The scout left in a hurry after a shallow bow.

Past a quaint gallows stage and a strikingly oppositely decorated fountain, the group found the Chantry Mothers mid-speech. A fair sized crowd was gathered around their small stage. Each gobbled up the fearful words of the women in religious power. The ones that turned to see who drew nearly, quickly fell back to give the Inquisition members a wide berth. It took even less time for the Mothers to notice the newcomers. Their speech quickly focused in on them.

“Good people of Val Royeaux, hear me!” The Mother called the groups attention. “Together we mourn our Divine. Her naive and beautiful heart silenced by treachery.” She spotted Sael. Quickly stepping back and gesturing toward the elf and her companions. “You wonder what will become of her murderer. Well, wonder no more!”

Sael didn’t hide the sneer on her face. It wasn’t the first time she had seen a good person being strung up for an escape goat. “...” The crowd murmured together, gasps stifled back into whispers and covered mouths behind fans.

“Behold.” The Chantry Mother started again. “The so-called ‘Herald of Andraste’ herself. Claiming to rise where our beloved fell. We say this is a false prophet! The Maker would send no elf mage in our hour of need!”

“Friendly, real friendly. So in turn you claim to speak for a loving Maker and condemn me in the same breath. I do hope your god is as forgiving as you make him out to be.” Seal spit to the ground. Two steps and she stood at the edge of the stage. “I came to discuss the Breach! The demon spitting, death causing hole in the sky. The real problem. Not have a hearsay bitching contest because you don’t like the collar I was given.”

“It’s true!” Cassandra rallied behind Sael. “Though not in such abrasive words.” She muttered quickly between breaths. Speaking again to address the Chantry Mothers. “The Inquisition only seeks to end this madness before it is too late!”

The clanging of metal was rapidly approaching from the other side of the market. “It is already too late.” The Chantry Mother pointed a finger toward Templars making their way up the steps. She backed up to give the Order ample room. “The Templars have returned to the Chantry! They will face this ‘Inquisition’ and the people will be safe once more.”

The look on the new arrival’s faces were dark and foreboding. Something was wrong and Sael could see it a mile away. She checked each of her companions and their own expressions told they sensed it as well. Varric looked nervous. Cassandra in tense focus. Solas gripped his staff a bit tighter, his brow furrowing as he watched the Lord Seeker march past the Chantry Mother.

A leathered fist slammed across the back of the Chantry Mother’s turned head. She staggered and fell into a slump on the stage floor. The other clerics sank beside her, confused and scared. Cassandra hand to snatch hold of Sael’s arm to keep the elf from lunging on stage in a rage.

The Lord Seeker patted the arm of a fellow Templar, “Still yourself. She is beneath us.” The other looked far from assured.

Seal threw off Cassandra’s grip only to feel the gentle touch of Solas’s hand on the other. She looked back and saw a warning expression on the Dread Wolf’s face. Turning back to the Lord Seeker. “I’d call that flashy but punching old women doesn’t exactly rank high on things that impress me.” Sael hissed behind gritted teeth.

“What impresses you matters not to me. Her claim to ‘authority’ is an insult. Much like your own.” If Lucius had sounded anymore disgusted, Sael might have thought the man was going to vomit. He turned away sharply and started down the stairs.

Cassandra moved to catch up. “Lord Seeker Lucius. It’s imperative that we speak-”

“You will not address me.”

“Lord Seeker?”

Lucius looked as if it took as his willpower to stop and acknowledge Cassandra further. “Creating a heretical movement, raising up a puppet as the Herald of Andraste.” He turned, his face twisting in anger. “You should be ashamed.”  
Cassandra was in stunned silence.

“You all should be ashamed.” Lucius’s piercing gaze moved over the Orlesian crowd. “The Templars failed no one when they left the Chantry to purge the mages!” An accusing finger was lifted at Cassandra and Sael. “You are the ones who failed! You who’d leash our righteous swords with fear and doubt. If you came to appeal to the Chantry, you are too late. The only destiny here that demands respect is mine.”

Seal scoffed loudly. “Another tin can with a horse in the popularity race. Delightful, but no one asked a damn thing destiny and your ego. Is that all you came to do? Make a pretty little speeches and stroke that over inflated sense of self worth. Trust me, I’ve seen enough to know you have absolutely nothing worth boosting about.”

“I came to see what frightens old women and laugh.” Lord Seeker’s hands clenched into fist, his calm demeanor little more than an act. Beneath was a fury.

“Let me know when the Breach makes its first joke. I’m sure it’ll be worth something. More than you have to offer.” Sael crossed her arms over her chest.

Solas stepped up beside the women. “The Breach is the true threat. And you’d rather cut down the only means of stopping it.”

Lucius looked as if his bed had just been lit on fire. “How dare an apostate elf speak to me. The Breach is threat, Knife ear, but you certainly don’t have the power to deal with it.” He growled.

“But Lord Seeker,” The Templar from the stag came around. “What if- what if she really was sent by the Maker? What if-”

“You are called to a higher purpose! Do not question.” An underling spoke for Lucius.

Lucius puffed out his chest. A prideful look on his face. “I will make the Templar Order a power that stands alone against the void. We deserve recognition, independence!” The gathered Templars saluted, a fist over their hearts. The Lord Seeker spoke to Sael. “You have shown me nothing, and the Inquisition … less than nothing.” He turned on his heels and started marching. “Templars: Val Royeaux is unworthy of our protection. We March!” With that, the Templars did just that, marched out of the city. A few slower than others.

The civilian crowd began to disperse. The points made painfully clear to them was enough to drive them towards the only shelters they knew. It was either the brave or the oblivious that remained out in the open air. The Inquisition members neither, simply trying to do what was right for whatever it took to accomplish. They came together by the fountain.

Varric released the strap of Bianca. “Charming fellow, isn’t he?”

“Has Lord Seeker Lucius gone mad?!” Cassandra stared at the shape of the man growing ever more distant.

“As men of power often do.” Solas jabbed quietly.

“Cassandra, that is not a man I want to make any deals with.” Seal shifted on her feet. “Not even for half a loaf of bread.”

“This is bizarre and unlike him.” Cassandra grasped for explanation, she found none. “Either way, we should return to Haven and inform the others.”

Sarcasm was Sael’s first urge to respond. The need fizzled out as she weighed the events of the day. “Yes, I think that would be best. I’ve had my fill of Templars and Chantry Mother’s for the week.”

As they turned to leave a man approached them. A well dressed servant. “You are the Herald of Andraste, are you not?” He stiffly held out an envelope. “I have an invitation for you.”

‘You are cordially invited to attend my salon held at the Chateau of Duke Bastien de Ghislain.

Yours Vivienne De Fer  
First Enchanter of Montsimmard  
Enchanter to the Imperial Court’

The script was flowing and the ink gold on glistening white parchment. Sael turned it over in her hand a couple times before commenting on funding their efforts with the invite card alone. She agreed to attend, happily. Privately, the acceptance was purely out of curiosity. They barely got a few steps past the messenger before an arrow struck the stone pavement at their feet. Sael groaned loudly and unfurled the note tied to it. Sloppy handwriting and what appeared to be a mustard stain in one corner and doodles along the borders. She skimmed it.

A letter from a person claiming to ‘a friend of Red Jenny’. A fabled group of troublemakers who’s name she vaguely recalled hearing in the Deep Roads. Red Jenny was wanting to help and offered a mass of people. In turn there was a ‘baddie’ that wanted to hurt Sael. The message also instructed her to look for some ‘red things’ around the market for directions and instructions.

“Well, Shortcut, which are we going to do?” Varric took a turn reading both messages.

“The Red Jenny doesn’t have a time frame and the invite from De Fer’s messenger said it was tomorrow night.” Sael took the parchments back and stuffed them into her bag. “Let’s do both, party first and then the Red Jenny business on our way back.” There was no argument.

One their exit of the city Sael and her companions were stopped by a woman’s voice behind them. She was darkly dressed in greens and fur trim. “If I might have a moment of your time.”

The four turned to her. “Grand Enchanter Fiona?” Cassandra tilted her head a bit to peer at the woman.

Solas took a step closer. “Leader of the mage rebellion. Is it not dangerous for you to be here?” He looked to see if this chance meeting had any unintended audience members.

“I heard of this gathering.” Fiona nodded, remaining close to the others. “I wanted to see the fabled Herald of Andraste with my own eyes.”

Sael chuckled. “The title is still a bit new for ‘fabled’ don’t you think?”

“If it is help with the Breach you seek, perhaps you should look among your fellow mages.” Fiona suggested in a hushed tone.

“This has certainly been a better meeting than the Templars. It’s a step in the right direction. But you wouldn’t speak to us before, why now?” A cautious eye from Sael. The old lesson about things seeming too good to be true often are.

“Because now I have seen you for what you are.” Fiona clipped the words. “And I’ve seen the Chantry for what it is. Consider this an invitation to Redcliffe: come meet with the mages. An alliance could help us both, after all.” The elven mage let a smile slip across her face. “I hope to see you there. Au revoir, my Lord Herald.”

Fiona left, leaving Sael and the others to finally exit the city. Sael waited till she was out of sight before loudly groaning. “For the love of...A ‘red thing’ hunt, a fancy party and now another invitation.”

Solas walked alongside Sael. “At least one is what we were after.”

The two fell behind Cassandra and Varric. “True enough, but we’re going to need to … talk this through before choices get made.”  
“I look forward to it.” Solas smiled warmly at the spirit woman. “Afterall it will undoubtedly have an effect on future ambitions.”

Chateau of Duke Bastien de Ghislain was a short ride north of Val Royeaux. Ravens were sent with updates for the advisors left waiting with baited breath back at Haven. Sael drove the small party of companions and soldiers onward to the first order of business before they would be allowed to take a rest. She only prayed there would be a chance for a hot meal and the universe permitting, a bath.


	10. Chapter 10

The food was weirdly shaped, tiny and most of it emitted a strange aroma. Sael withdrew her hand to only see Solas pop a small delicate frilly cake into his mouth, eyes closing as a smile formed on his face. She spotted the tray he picked from and selected one for herself. A deep chocolate colored cake topped with a cream color transitioning to a pastel blue, a long curl of crystalized carmel perched on the icing. Sael mimicked Solas and took the tiny cake in one bite. Sweetened chocolate was followed by a hint of citrus and carmel. It was divine, her face melted into the same pleased expression.

“I won’t credit any deity for the invention of this cake.” Sael turned her back on the table and walked with Solas. “It would be an injustice to the chef.”

“Indeed.” Solas nodded, wrist crossed at his back. “Creators are often downplayed for their contributions to the world and art.”

The party flowed around the two, most were engrossed in their own conversation and others trying to pretend they weren’t watching the Herald of Andraste and another elf talk between themselves. Fancy mask range between plain and gaunty bobbed and flicked side to side. Sael did her best to hide her personal annoyances towards guests and the party, it worked for the most part. Solas hovered a hand at the small of her back to guide her to a less popular section of the Chateau, plucking a pair of champagne glasses off a passing tray.

“Have you given thought about what you want to accomplish with all this?” Solas asked behind an upturned glass lip.

Sael sighed and took a sip of her own. “Haven’t had many chances to give it the effort it deserves. You?”

“Templars are dangerous and it looks like they are well on their way to extinction by means of their own.” Solas whispered, eyeing the crowd for gossip mongers. “With how often history repeats itself … you and I have seen these events before.”

“The time when a coat-tugger’s tip becomes public?” Sael turned to face more of the wall behind Solas. “It’s a common story, an autobiography of yours if I recall events properly.”

Solas chuckled silently. “Ah yes, I can’t seem to completely outrun the past.”

“Solas, if I didn’t know better, I would say you were engaged in a very long courtship with the past.” Sael smirked darkly. She shot a smug glance at the equally smirking elf. “This Inquinistion is bound to be a world changing player, and here we are playing a sideboard in addition.”

“Playing one chess game is entertaining enough, two is a rare challenge.” Solas nodded before taking another healthy sip. “Were I to make the choice, I would side with the mages, give them their freedoms. The Templars will be dangerous post Breach if we take them in and build them for the Inquisition's purposes. The mages might be inclined to feel an eternal sense of gratitude for cementing their tenuous freedoms.”

“Not to mention that a vast majority of elves that join either group are mages.” Sael crossed her arms, the crystal glass raised. “They may not have an affinity for the Deep Roads, but a mage and elf leaders in power. That is a strong argument to recruit the Dalish down the road.”

The elf male hm’ed in agreeance, “A conversation we’ll have to continue another time. We are beginning to attract attention.”

“When caught in the act, distract the unwanted gathers with something else juicy.” Sael shouldered up to Solas and planted a long gentle kiss on Solas’s neck just behind his jaw. She stepped away to give weight to a romance being the reason for the guarded conversation. She left the elf, with a smirking blush, in the evening’s light with to mingle and consider their plans.

A man and a woman dressed in the height of Orlasian fashion stopped Sael. “A pleasure to meet you, my lady. Seeing the same faces at every event have become tiresome.” His accent was pleasant enough for Sael to stand closer to the pair. “So you must be a guest of Madame De Fer. Or are you here for Duke Bastien?”

“Are you here on business?” The woman spoke, voice slightly muffled by the high ruffle collar. “I have heard the most curious tales about you. I cannot imagine all of them are true.” 

Sael sighed, smiling. “I’m not sure which question I should answer first. My invitation came from Vivienne the First Enchanter, while was stopped over in Val Royeaux.” She earned some approving nods and smiling eyes. “Business is all relative these days, but I am an expert at keeping myself afloat in troubled waters.”

The pair giggled between each other.

“As for tales, I promise you, the truth is much more grand than any merchant vendor gossip.” Sael knew full well that wild stories had begun running across Thedas, it was useful at least. No matter the made up gossip they created or truths they stretched, the truth was always going to be much more shocking for them.

The woman let out a small squeal of joy. “Better and better. The Inquisition should attend more of these parties.”

“The Inquisition…” A mocking new male voice came from the top of the nearby stairs. “What a load of pig shit.” He laughed as he sauntered down the gilded staircase. He came to stand at the fringe of Sael and her enthused acquaintances. “Washed up Sisters and crazed Seekers. No one can take them seriously.” He scoffed loudly, drawing the other party guest from their own enjoyment. He cut between Seal and the others to stand opposite the elf woman. “Everyone knows it’s just an excuse for a bunch political outcast to grab at power.”

Sael shook her head, smiling toward the floor. “Oh wow, right, because everyone else is just scrambling to patch up the nightmare bento box in the sky.” She straightened to roll her eyes for all to see. “We are working to restore peace and order to the people of Thedas.”

The man feigned spitting toward the ground. “Here comes the outsider, restoring peace with an army.” He stepped up to Sael. “We all know what your ‘Inquisition’ truly is.”

“Okay, you know what…” Sael bite her tongue, a pleading look from Cassandra lingering by the main doors. Varric counting coins in his pouch with a pleased grin. Sael took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “You’re right, I am restoring peace with an army and doing everything I can to not let innocents get caught in the middle. You are entitled to believe what you choose, but until you are apart of the decision making process, I won’t be taking guff from the circus gallery at this time.”

Varric balked while a distant short cheer from the Seeker was noticed by Sael. The spirit saw the dwarf hand over a handful of coins to Cassandra.

“If you were a woman of honor,” He shook a finger at her. “You’d step outside and answer the charges.” He hand had barely gripped the hilt of the sword on his back before a thin layer of ice encased him.

“My dear Marquis.” A smooth female voice chimed out from the back of the Chateau's main hall. A dark complexioned woman stood atop the highest stairs and began making her way down. Dressed in soft grey, gleaming gold and pure white that arched and curved in ways that framed her as if the Maker himself had painted her. “How unkind of you to use such language in my house,” Her words carried an authority to them only found in royalty. “To m guests.” She stalked around the Marquis before settling to stand in front of his frozen form. “You know such rudeness is...intolerable.”

“Madame Vivienne.” The Marquis confidence had completely vanished. “I humbly beg your pardon.”

“You should.” Vivienne took another step to stand face to face with the Marquis. “Whatever am I going to do with you, my dear.” She turned toward Sael. “My lady, you are the wounded party in this unfortunate affair. What would you have me do with this foolish, foolish man?”

Sael shrugged and relaxed. “The Marquis doesn’t interest me. Death is a gift, not a punishment. How else would fools learn.”

Vivienne’s attention came back to the man trapped in her ice magic. “Poor marquis, issuing challenges and hurling insults like some Fereldan dog lord.” She cupped his chin, gently pushing his face side to side. A single snap of her fingers released him to cough the chill from his lungs. “And all dressed up in your Aunt Solange’s doublet. Didn’t she give you that for the Grand Tourney?”

The marquis did his best to make himself smaller.

“To think, all the brave Chevaliers who will be competing left for Markham this morning,” The Orlesian mage looked him over with a pitying expression. “And you’re still here. Were you hoping to sate your damaged pride by defeating the Herald of Andraste in a public duel? Or did you think her blade could put an end to the misery of your failure?”

The marquis remained as silent as the grave, unable to meet the enchanter’s gaze. Sael took the woman was a breath of fresh air in the party. The entire event had captivated everyone in attenance’s attention.

“Run along, my dear.” Vivienne shooed him. “Do give my regards to your aunt.” The man shuffled off with what remained of his obliterated dignity. The woman turned fully to Sael and offered for the elf to follow her up the stairs. “I’m delighted you attend this little gathering. I was so wanted to meet you.”

“I’m pleased to say this has exceeded my expectations.” Sael stopped by the window Vivienne lingered by.

“Please, allow me to introduce myself. I am Vivienne, First Enchanter of Montsimmard and enchantress to the Imperial Court.” She gave a shallow bow of her head.

“Charmed.” Sael smiled and returned the bow.

“Ah, but I didn’t invite you to the Chateau for pleasantries.” Vivienne beamed at the display of manners. “With Divine Justinia dead, the Chantry is in shambles. Only the Inquisition might restore sanity and order to our frightened people.”

Sael raised an eyebrow. “A bold bet on a newcomer to the players of Thedas.”

“I have an eye for those who show promise.” Vivienne’s smile bore a dark quirk in the corner of her lips. “As the leader of the last loyal mages of Thedas, I feel it only right I lend my assistance to your cause.”

“Purely altruistic, of course.” Sael smirked, her tone light as if they shared a private inside joke. She accepted the claim. Vivienne flicked her hand toward Sael and called the elf woman ‘charming’.

Vivienne let a faux smile cross her face. “Purely so.”

“Alright, Madame De Fer, if you want to put your coin on this” Sael bowed to the First Enchanter. “We would love to welcome you.”

Before Vivienne could thank the Herald, a voice came from behind her. “Vivienne, mon précieux, another spectacular party.” It was a Orleasian man in a peacock themed masquerade mask. “The dress I designed for you was showcased to perfection!”

“Count Dupont!” Vivienne turned to exchange kisses aside each other’s faces. “You came.”

“I wouldn’t dare miss one of your parties.” Dupont was a lean man, a head taller than Vivienne. Pale with eloquently stylized curls of orange hair. Sharp green eyes took everything in and stopped on Sael. “Mon précieux, who is your friend?”

“Count Curio Dupont, it is a pleasure to introduce you to the Herald of Andraste.” Vivienne gestured to Sael with a graceful sweep of her arm. A realization cross her mind. “My lady, I never caught your name, terribly rude of me.”

“Sael will suffice for now.” She gave her name and a bow to the Count. “How could I not know Count Dupont, the reigning master of Orlesian fashion.” The man’s name had come up in few merchants that braved the Deep Roads more often than any other.

Curio raised a glass. “An elf woman of taste.” He fixed his focus on the other mage with a dark and mischievous smile. “Now what are you up to, mon précieux? Keeping the Herald of Andraste all to yourself?”

“We actually have come to an agreement and I will be lending my assistance to the Inquisition.” Vivienne smiled, victory in her tone.

Dupont peaked a smirk at Sael. “Oh child, we can’t have you becoming a proper power in Thedas in rags like that.” He traced a gesture up and down Sael. He sighed deeply and looked to be caught in deep thought. “Mon précieux, it has become so boring stitching these plump hens and over stuffed cocks into my masterpieces. Perhaps it is time for a paradigm shift and let the muse have something new to taste.”

“Come again?”

Vivienne clicked her tongue in humor. “Oh, my dear, he means to say is he wants to expand his talents and thinks the Inquisition would be a wonderful new frontier for him.”

“You want to make clothes for us?” Sael tried to confirm, not seeing the reason for a high end fashion designer to do a task that an average tailor could handle.

“Phst!” Curio threw his face to the side. “Clothes is such an ugly word for my craft. I wish to make garments that not only match the title of a Herald but outshine armor any run of the mill blacksmith can produce. To see beauty flashing through the heat of battle, splashed in the struggle of life and death! I want to bring beauty to the ugliness of war!” His arms moved like a conductor through his explanation.

Vivienne stood aside Sael, beaming with pride. “He’s my tailor, a mad genius and the finest tailor in all of Orlais.”

“Is this a package deal?” Sael asked quietly.

“Course not,” Vivienne shook her head. “But I wish you luck in escaping him. Once his muse speaks to him, there isn’t a force in all of Thedas that can keep him from it.”

Sael shook her head, taking a deep breath. “Very well, Count Dupont. Welcome to the Inquisition.”

“Lovely!” Curio raised his glass again in a toast. “I shall leave immediately. Perfection waits for no one.” He bowed out and disappeared into the crowd of partygoers. In his wake they clamored and called after him.

Vivienne toasted to Sael as well and gave a shallow bow out. “I will leave and meet you wherever you have staked your banner.”

Sael was alone for a total of three seconds before Varric and Cassandra came quickly up the stairs. “Was that Curio Dupont I saw talking to you?” The Seeker asked, trying in vain to mask her eagerness.

“A fan?” Sael let out an exhausted chuckle. “Yes, and apparently he and Madame Vivienne will be joining the Inquisition.”

“That dandy?” Varric shot a look behind him where he last saw Curio vanish. “He doesn’t seem the type to handle blood really well.”

“We’ll see soon enough.” Sael began to feel drained from the events of the party. “I’m more than ready to leave. We still have that ‘red thing’ to deal with. Red Jenny I think was her name.”

Cassandra’s beaming smile didn’t falter. “Yes, I believe so. We best leave soon.”

“How about now.” Sael pushed off the window ledge seat and made a direct path for the main doors. Cassandra, Varric and Solas followed.

Back aboard the ship to Val Royeaux, Sael spent a large portion of time sharpening her skills at Wicked Grace with Varric. Solas had gracefully declined and poured his attention in searching the Fade for helpful information. Cassandra had come and gone for a spare few games, only when Varric appeared to be on a losing streak. It wasn’t long till the Seeker realized it was bait he set out to tempt her into playing with him. Cassandra tossed her cards down on the planks again and groaned loudly.

“Seeker, as much moaning as you do,” Varric smuggly picked up the contents of the pot. “I want to meet the soul that taught you.”

Cassandra shook her head. “It is annoyance and-” The implication hit her in the face, it exploded in a blush. “My past is of no concern of yours or your dirty mind.”

“It’s not dirt if it’s a juicy piece of backstory.” Varric chuckled.

Sael sat her losing hand down. “You two keep this up and I think you will be sneaking private lessons back at Haven.”

Varric thumb flicked a gold coin to Sael. “I’ll cover your bet on that one.”

Cassandra left in a loud huff, storming off to starboard.

“How about you and chuckles?” Varric eyed the spirit.

Sael leaned back on her palms. “And what makes you think there’s an ‘and’ at the moment?”

“I saw you two talking at the party. Looked awful cozy between you two.” Varric reshuffled the deck and dealt cards between them. A silver coin placed between them. “Fade mage and a spirit, lot of common ground. Unless that kiss was to cover up something.”

“You’re the rogue scoundrel, you tell me Master Tethras.” A dark grin on her face. “Give me three.” She discarded and placed two silver coins down.

“Hm, ballsy move.” Varric handed the cards off the top of the deck and traded his own. “You’re the blessed Herald of Andraste, be careful you don’t end up bringing the Maker down on us all.” He laughed. “Four dragons, and king pair.”

Sael smiled. “What’s wrong with the god we have with us in Haven?” She turned her hand to show Varric her cards. “Full house, flush.” She rose from the boat’s floor. “I have some work to get done. Later.”

“Wait!” Varric called after her. “What god?!” Sael didn’t answer. The dwarf was left with his thoughts and immediately trying to solve Sael’s cryptic question.

Val Royeaux was much as they left it. People still bustled around the port town’s market. Many briskly moving out of sight of Sael and her companions. The letter from Red Jenny was fished out of a bag and glanced over for instructions. They slipped into the resultant to find a red handkerchief left under the end of a table. A slip of parchment told them the next clue. They crossed back through the marketplace and headed for the docks again. The second was nestled beneath a fishing net with the third clue. The tower closest to the docks was the fastest way up to the second level. Just beyond the blue doors was the third handkerchief with another note. All three pieces of torn parchment came together to a single message and directions outside the city. The deadline on it was the following evening.

The Inquisition soldiers were unable to keep up with the hard ride Sael and the others took. The moons were almost at their peaks by the time Sael and the others arrived. Dismounting just as quickly and shoving through the main doors to find a single Orleasian man standing in a courtyard. Dodging the first fireball thrown at her face and turning to let the other shoot past. Solas’s barriers manifested between blast of fire. Varric armed and ready with Cassandra positioned behind her shield at Sael’s side.

“The Herald of Andraste!” The masked man growled. “How much did you expend to discover me.” His chin rose, nose held high. “It must have weakened the Inquisition immeasurably.”

Sael looked around the courtyard, looking for an ambush or some pranksters. She turned back to the mage, her face twisted in confusion. “Wait a minute, who are you?!”

“You don’t fool me!” His hands rest on his hips as he paced about in place. “I’m too important for this to be an accident. My efforts will survive in victories against you as well!” The sound of a door banging open interrupted, a single guard cry out in death and sank to the ground.

A petite woman took the dead guards place, pulling a bow’s drawstring back to her cheek. A rage filled scowl on her face. “Just say ‘whot’.”

“What is the-” An arrow was fired and found itself pierced through his mouth.

The woman lowered her bow and approached the body as Sael and her companions relaxed. The five gathered around the corpse. “Egh… Squishy one, but ya’ heard me right? ‘Just say ‘whot’.” She knelt down to pull her arrow free. “Rich tits always try for more than they deserve. Blah, blah, blah” The arrow came free with a liquid tearing sound. “Obey me, arrow in my face.” She rose to face Sael. “So you followed the notes well enough. Glad to see you’re annnd you’re an elf.” Looking over Sael’s shoulder to see the others. “With another elf…. Well I hope you two aren’t to ‘elfy’.”

Sael and Solas both raised eyebrows. Sael’s face remained impassive while Solas let his attention fall elsewhere.

“It’s all good ain’t it? The important thing is, you glow. You’re the herald thingy.” The woman resumed her smile.

“I’m exactly what I need to be for now.” Sael felt annoyance prickle at the back of her neck. “Who are you and what’s with the overpriced pincushion.” She prodded the corpse.

“No idea, I don’t know this idiot from manners. My people just said the Inquisition should look at him.”

“You’re people, elves?”

The blonde woman shook her head and laughed. “Uhm, no, people-pleople. Name’s Sera, this is cover.” She turned to point out the stack of crates. “Get ‘round it. For the reinforcements. Don’t worry, someone tipped me their equipment shed. They got no breeches.”

As if on queue the sounds of fighters came rushing up the courtyard’s exist. Solas quickly reestablished barriers and cast out ice mine traps. Cassandra brought her shield up and rushed to meet the attackers. Sear and Varric remained at a distance, picking shots in opponent's openings or wishful attacks. There weren’t a whole lot of them, running around in half their armor and clothing. Not sure which party of Sera it was that stopped at taking everything but leaving them their small clothes. Sael stomped a foot onto the stone, the thud answered by the courtyard filling with protruding stone spikes. Companions and Sera were untouched by the attack, leaving the pantless soldiers skewered on the stone points. Dead.

Sear took a couple steps back as the spikes vanished back into the courtyard floor. “That was a bit much.”

“Of all the things to take, weapons, lyrium and even the upper body armor, you take their pants.” Sael smiled, shaking her head laughing quietly. “Classy stuff. I’m into it.”

“Yeah, friends really came through with that tip. No breeches.” Sera snorted a bit. “So, Herald of Andraste, you’re a strange one. I’d like to join.”

Sael looked Sera over a few times. There wasn’t any comment from the others regarding the elf archer. “I have a had a seriously long couple weeks, and I doubt they are going to get any easier or making much more sense. So, yeah, sure. You want to join us, welcome to it.” Sael smirked as she walked past letting Sera follow them back. “Esha'lin.”

Sera made a gagging sound.


	11. Chapter 11

There was a demand to speak with Sael as soon as the group returned to Haven. Vivienne and Dupont had arrived together a half day before them. Even they requested the Herald’s attention. Sael kindness was saved only for the people of Haven, advisors and those who knew what she had been up the past weeks were shot dirty glares from a very exhausted spirit. Sael was beginning to feel the need to return to the Deep Roads for what she plainly called, a recharge. Sleep was going to have to be the best compromise she could get. Cassandra had on numerous occasions made it clearly known her irritation with Sael vanishing anywhere, let alone to the Deep Roads.

Sael found that attempting to sleep in her own little cabin came with a giant problem. Everyone knew where she was. After the fourth interruption of ‘important questions’, she nearly tore the door off it’s hinges. Hot tempered and unsure of her ability to remain civil, she stormed to Solas’s cabin. He was surprised to say the least when she demanded that absolutely no one bother her further and threw herself onto his cot. It didn’t take a leap of logic to know what Sael wanted and Solas merely stood in the way of the door turning down anyone who came looking for the Herald. It was nightfall by the time Sael rose again.

Sael slowly opened Solas’s cabin door, groggy and dazed elf spirit poked her head out. “...Solas?” He cleared his throat next to the door. She saw him and the evening sky. “What time is it?”

“Too late to do much of anything and too early to find anyone else awake.” Solas answered pushing himself off the doorsill and turning to usher Sael back inside. “I’ll catch you up on what you missed. Can’t let the good people of Haven seeing their Herald looking like flaming shipwreck.”

The two went inside the cabin, Solas offering a chair next to the small fireplace. He pulled a brush from a draw, pulling a stool up behind her and began working the thrashing of sleep from her hair. She sat quietly staring at the fire as she struggled with waking up.

A short sharp tug of the brush caught her attention. “Wait, why do you have a hair brush? You tend a lot of women’s hair in here?” She asked, smirking without turning. She could hear him chuckle.

“Come, da’lin, do I really seem the type?” Solas unraveled another nest of knots. “It came with the room.”

Sael scoffed and nodded as much as Solas would let her. “Secret brushing business is a bit less shocking as a bald elf with a proper brush.”

“An intentional choice, not a happenstance of genetics.” Solas continued working, pulling slips of hair into a design. “I used to watch the priestesses of Mythal do this for each other. Though they had much more grace than I do.”

“More than my uninspired single ponytail.” Sael shrugged returning to studying the fire. It was the most normal moment she had had in centuries. “I remember when my late husband would do this for me. Used to tell me he was just helping me blow off the dust...”

“To find the silver vein.” Solas finished the saying for her. “This is the first you’ve mentioned a husband.”

“Late.” Sael reminded. “Is it a shock I had a life before this?” Sael clipped her words coldly.

Solas shook his head, gently tying a section of hair together. “No, not in the least. Spirits are no more or less a person than the rest of Thedas.”

“A rare sentiment.”

A lull, the first, crept between them. Solas kept braiding as Sael’s stare remained fixed on the fire. “Who was he?” Solas broke the still dark morning silence.

“A Legion of the Dead warrior.” Sael’s voice fell barely above a whisper. “Sannek Durol, I found him near dead in my roads. A horde of darkspawn coming for him. He could barely lift his axe, much less survive.”

Solas paused mid-stroke. “A dwarf, Legion of the Dead no less.” He started again. “Death is an honor, how did you go from that to marriage.”

“He made me laugh. First time that ever happened. The Deep Roads are not known for humor and there was this mostly dead dwarf laying there, pinned by rubble and shouting curses and threats at the incoming darkspawn.” Sael’s hand came up, pushing something from her eye. “As if his demeanor would scare them off. Crazy bastard yelled at me. His first words to me and it was all insults.” She quietly chuckled.

“He wouldn’t be a true dwarf if he didn’t face death with all the tenacity of their empire.” Solas grinned. The few dwarves he had known would be roaring and toasting loudly about such an end. “What did he say to you?”

“Atredum na satolva.” Sael recalled quickly, her voice bringing a softness not often found in the dwarven language.

Solas snorted hard enough to pull away from Sael, his face in the crook of his arm. His shoulders trembling in a restrained fit of laughter. He managed to gather enough of him to speak again. “Please, tell me he didn’t talk to you like that on a daily basis?”

She swatted his arm with the back of her hand. “Do you really think I would stand someone who talked like that sharing my space?” Sael giggled. “I gave him a pass because of the darkspawn.”

“Fair enough.” Solas took a deep breath. “So the happy couple started off on a colorful phrase that should never ever be repeated in polite conversation. Then what?” He tossed the brush aside, rising to fetch a pair of cups and water for them both.

“First things first,” Sael took the cup and a sip. “You promised to catch me up on what I missed while I slept.”

Solas sighed and dropped back onto the stool. “Hardly as interesting as this story, but very well, I did promise. A brief summary than. News of the events in Val Royeaux made it back here thrice as fast as we did. Commander Cullen is disappointed with the Templars, as is Cassandra. Both still believe that approaching them is the best course of action.”

“Templars haven’t exactly earned themselves a glowing review from me.”

“Nor in Josphine’s eyes, believing that the mages would be a safer and stronger solution to the problem. Leliana’s reports are coming back with odd information in regards to the Templars, and it has been troubling her. Talks of a potential trap.” Solas took a drink and waited for Sael to confirm she was keeping up. “The Inquisition heads are just as divided as the Chantry is at this point.”

Sael pushed the cup back and forth between her palms. “Those four would take this age and the next to decide on what to serve for breakfast. So, they have been hounding for my two coppers on this?”

He rolled his eyes. “Eight, eight times altogether Cassandra and Leliana came looking for you. The spymaster was honestly harder to get rid of than I would have liked. There is also growing rumors about blame on the mages or Templars for the conclave.”

“Thedas’ favorite subject right after me.” Sael groaned, head sinking to hang. “Not that we have enough clout to be talking to either group right now, invitation or not.”

“Indeed.” Solas finished his cup and set it aside. “Now that is all I have for broad strokes, and you did promise to finish the story of your husband. We still have some time before dawn.”

“You sure?” Sael almost seemed to curl a bit in on herself. “This story doesn’t have a happy ending.”

Solas took her hand and squeezed it tightly. “Not all stories are happy, but all of them together can make a beautiful book in the end.”

“You’ve been taking notes from Varric.” Sael cracked a weak smile. “Alright, so we left off at charging darkspawn. It was certain death if I did nothing and something in me wouldn’t let me a simple spectator. I can’t say what it was exactly, darkspawn or the potential death of a person, maybe some newfounded sense of potential guilt, nonetheless I intervened. My roads shredded those darkspawn, hurling their tainted blood into the bottomless pits just over the edge.”

“A kind act.”

“I would have thought so but Sannek wasn’t too thrilled of being robbed of an honorable death and by magic no less.” Sael lost herself in the memory for a moment. “...I told him what I was, and that I could leave him to die slowly there for being an ass, or carry him to his camp and live to kill more darkspawn.”

“A smart choice would have been to take the latter. Dwarves are stubborn, not stupid.”

Sael agreed. “My Sannek was no fool, even if he still felt a bit slighted. He let me sneak him back into his camp. They chalked his explanations up to a fevered madness. Once he was well enough to walk, he started wandering deeper into my roads looking for me. We started as friends and a few years went by before both of us realized what formed.”

“...”

“I fell in love with him. His gnarled face, the way it beamed with all of his expressions. The way he roared diving into packs of darkspawn. How he cherished the roads and his comrades. It was an act of love that he named me Isana.”

“Lyrium?”

“Singing Stone.” Sael corrected. Her hand pushed something from her eye again. “I, uh, they way he talked to me. A hardened, battle tempered dwarf with the gentlest of touches. I loved him like I did my own home.”

“What happened to Sannek?”

Sael couldn’t hide the tear that slipped from her eye. “He died. His comrades followed him one day and found him talking to me, a translucent wisp of a woman. They said evil had possessed him and that he was going against the Stone….” She choked up and rose from her chair. “I’m sorry I can’t talk anymore about this. I know I promised…I-I just-”

“It’s alright, I understand.” Solas stood with her and opened the door she moved toward. Sael left without another sound.

Dawn’s first light still hadn’t broken over the horizon and he was left with nothing more than his thoughts. Resolve struck Solas and he climbed onto his cot, a quick sleep spell and he soon found himself in the Fade. Not far from where he manifested, a familiar spirit hovered. Solas called out to his friend, a spirit of remembrance. The two traded pleasantries before it gave him directions to the memory he was after. Through a cave like entrance, Solas found himself standing on a stretch of carved stone in the Deep Roads. The surrounding attached cliff was engulfed in flames with a massive pack of darkspawn heading for a single stout body.

Solas expertly teleported himself to stand in the thick of the reflection. A black haired angry looking dwarf dressed in damaged Legion armor, heaved hot laboured breaths. He was shouting dwarvish threats mixed with blood and spit. His eye caught something and Solas turned to see a spirit that vaguely resembling Sael, Isana. The granite colored spirit flicked in place, drifting closer on a nonexistent breeze. The dwarf shouted at her before turning back to see a darkspawn sword split a beard hair. Fast as he noticed, the roads turned hostile. Churning like a nest of giant pythons, the darkspawn were destroyed. Sannek was left untouched, staring up at the spirit.

“Oh Sannek,” Solas whispered to himself. “Did you ever understand how lucky you were?”

Solas moved through the memory, watching the two share an all too brief life together. Secret rendezvous, a shielding love that was brushed off as good fortunes in the heat of battle. The reflection of Isana and Sannek were eventually joined by a group of Legion dressed dwarves. Horror on the lovers faces. Angry accusations and bitter name calling. Threats flung by friends that Sannek had ate, fought and lived by. He stood and approached his comrades, trying to explain Isana to the others. Solas couldn’t see which of the dwarves was the first to draw swords on Sannek. They were quickly joined by the rest. Sannek ordered Isana to run and trust him to settle matters. She did as he asked.

“Dwarves are stubborn, but they’re not stupid.” Solas repeated himself. “You knew exactly how this was going to end. A true selfless act.”

Soon as the spirit was out of sight, the husband’s fellow Legionnaires fell on him. Solas felt it would be dishonorable to look away and painfully watched as these defenders of the Deep Roads butcher their friend. They eventually left a broken and bloody mass behind. Spitting curses and swearing to forget that Sannek had ever existed. Sannek’s face was crushed beyond recognition, his mouth quivering with every bloodcurdling breath. Isana’s reflection returned, a harrowing scream was clear in the silent memory. Solas pricked at the memory’s core and brought the sounds back.

Violent sobbing and blood filled gurgles burst to life. “I-Isan-a?”

“Sannek, you...you can’t do this to me. You promised we’d reclaim the Roads together. Till the Stone fell to dust.” Sael’s muffled cries raised the hair of Solas’s body.

“I’m sorry, aye I was full of...sod promising you that.” Sannek stroked the back of Sael’s head with a mangled hand. “No tears, my Isana, I go to the Stone with no shame.”

“I’ll kill them for this!” Sael wailed. “Damnit, Sannek, this is wrong!”

Sannek coughed, blood splattering through a laugh. “Mathas gar na… fornen pa salroka atrast, Isana. I found love, lost my taste for war.”

The dwarf wheezed and cough out a final fit before his body sank beneath Sael. Her screams were all there was to hear. The Deep Roads shook with her rage and heart ache. Solas took a step back from the memory to leave before stopping short. Sael reached down into the pool of Sannek’s blood and scooped it to cup in her hand. She cradled it closely before breathing a sparkling gleaming silver light like the night sky into it. Solas watched intently as Sael poured a piece of her essence into the blood and shaped it into a tiny dwarf infant. A dwarven baby born of a spirit’s broken heart and the blood of her most cherished lover.

A shrill cry escaped the baby. Sael kissed Sannek’s hand in a farewell and vanished beyond the memories’s range. Solas’s eyes snapped open in Haven, the wailing cry of the baby still sounding at the fringes of his senses. Dawn’s light had filled his window while he lay there coming to terms with the discovery.

It was cold dawn when Sael mounted up her horse. Leliana had caught Sael on her slow trek back to her cabin. The spymaster was concerned with the disappearance of Grey Wardens. On both Ferelden and Orlaisian side of Thedas. Leliana found the timing with the conclave to be a strong coincidence and wanted to investigate it further. Sael agreed to check on the matter and requested to have Varric meet her at the stables, alone. Leliana caught the Herald’s sleeve, something else lingering to be asked of the spirit. Reports of a single Warden remaining in the Hinterlands by the name of Blackwall. Leliana asked that he also be looked into as well as searching for the missing Wardens. Sael only nodded again and headed for the stables. Varric was awoken and sent off to the stables, pulling boots and crossbow on as he rushed.

Cullen came over to Leliana, arms crossed over his chest, watching where Sael vanished into the stables. “You managed to rope her into your wild goose chase?”

“It’s not a wild goose chase if she finds an answer.” Leliana growled back.

“So long it’s the answer you want?” Cullen shot back.

Leliana huffed, a cold stare fixed on the commanders face. “Any answer.” She glanced back to see Varric and Sael ride out alone. “Did she seem...off to you?”

“The Herald has been running non stop since they all came back from the mountain pass.” Cullen unfolded his arms and joined Leliana’s stare. “At the most, she seems more worn down rather than anything suspicious.”

“Meet me in the war room, there is something I think we need to look into.” Leliana roughly patted Cullen’s back before turning to head back into the Chantry.

Cullen groaned and turned on his heels to follow after the spymaster. “This may shock you, Leliana, but I do have other duties to perform as Commander.”

The ride to the Hinterlands was familiar, no part of this was a willing return. It was the Herald of Andraste’s task as an uplifted champion of the people to do everything in her power to help them. Between crippling the mages and the Templars in the area. Providing supply caches from either group, hunting wild game and clearing dug in bandits, she was beginning to expect outcry for aid in opening a jar of pickled beets. In reality it was a breathing potion from a son in newly made cult worshipping the Breach. Running back and forth the expanse of the Hinterlands was beyond exhausting and it began to test the limits of Sael’s tolerance.

Varric wasn’t blind, he could see his spirit friend’s fuse shortening. He spurred his pony forward to snatch hold of Sael’s reigns. When she attempted to scold him, he offered them back or to keep them in exchange for an hour of peace and quiet. An hour without a single request or task to carry out. Sael put her hands up in delighted defeat, stretching herself out to lay along the back of her horse. The clouds passed overhead, threads of green light streaking across the sky randomly. The beauty and peace of the moment was broken by the reminder that no matter what was done, there was still work to be done.

A cellar door creaked open with an ear splitting groan. Sael’s eyes shot open, head rising to unleash a furious glare at the offending source of sound. Varric stood, holding a decaying cellar door open, a smirk on his face. She slid from the saddle and approached Varric with caution.

“What is this?” Sael glanced between dwarf and door. “Some fruit cellar with a demon looking to swallow my soul before dawn?”

“Ever the true cynic.” Varric let the door clatter into shards on the ground. He headed down first. “Come on, it’s for your health, Shortcut.” He called from below.

Sael sighed quietly and trailed after Varric. The cellar was bare. Rotting stairs and rusting nails for whatever the imagination could come up with. Dried out husk of vegetables swayed in the musty air. “An abandoned fruit cellar.” She spotted Varric by a stone wall that could have been a part of the original foundation. “An author and you couldn’t tell I was joking about the demon part?”

Varric waved her off, checking along the weathered masonry. “You need this more than you’re willing to admit.” He cheered a moment as he roughly tapped a fist against a selected stone. The chosen stone fell back into what should have been compacted earth.

It was hollow.

Sael perked up and hurried to stand next to Varric. “What is this, a secret passage?”

Varric held an arm to push her back with himself. “For you maybe. Most anyone else is looking for death here.” The foundation wall stiffly sank back and pulled away to reveal an unlit stairwell down. He pulled a torch and flint from his bag.

“No.” Sael stopped Varric from lighting the torch. “This is my home, let me have the dark a moment.” She started down the stairs. The moment her toes made contact she felt an eruption of comfort. The Deep Roads linked with Sael, taking a deep breath she led Varric into the nearest outcropping of rocky walls and carved stone roads.

There was a long silence between dwarf and spirit. Faint sound of water babbled in the far off distance. Animals and monsters stirred in the dark, none daring to stray too close to the embodiment of their home. In all of Thedas, this was the single largest structure to exist, even all of it wasn’t tamed by Sael. Deep, deeper than any dwarven record could recall were roads claimed by aspects beyond Sael’s understanding. The air in the darkness traced over the pair, reminding them they weren’t alone with hints of different scents. Even the hollow echoing roars of darkspawn reached them in their shared quiet.

“Varric.”

A short and sudden shuffle came from behind Sael. “I’d give you an ugly look for scaring me, but I can’t even see my own nose.”

Dim, cold blue and silver light eased around them. Sael didn’t bother to turn to Varric. “Better?”

“A step in the right direction.” Varric didn’t see Sael move. She merely sat still as the surrounding stone. “Feeling better? You started to seem pretty frayed back at Haven.”

Sael chuckled. “So you brought me home to rest, that was your grand plan rather than asking?”

“Frame it like that and it sounds half-baked.”

“It was.” Sael turned her head to smile at him. “I rarely like fully baked plans anyhow.” The two laughed quietly. She took a deep breath, stretching her arms and legs as far as they would go. Settling back down growing quiet again. “Can I ask you something?”

“I am prone to extravagant lies about myself.” He warned lightheartedly.

Sael twisted to face Varric. “Do you think memories are we ever have, or is it possible to forget things?”

“Isn’t this a question for Chuckles?” Varric was unsure how to answer. “You brought just me all the way here. Why no Seeker either?”

“If I told you a lie right now, would you believe me?” Sael offered, smirking as he shook his head. “Then I’ll say nothing and not waste the breath. You still haven’t answered me.”

Varric grunted, shifting in the vain search for comfort on the rocky floor. “I don’t know, if we forget than we don’t know it’s missing to begin with.” He could see the pleading look on her face. He found it unsettling at times at how real her expressions were at times. “It’s not much of an answer but I’m just an author. I’d like to believe we can forget things. Truly horrible memories of pain and suffering, to move on and heal. Though some of that should stay, how else do we learn.”

“And forgetting good memories?”

“That is a crime when it happens.” Varric shook his head, a meaty hand running over his hair. “But clinging to it is just as hurtful as never forgetting something painful.”

“...”

Sael internally warred with herself. It was written all over her face for Varric to read. Something finally won when she looked him in the eyes again. “And what if you forget yourself? Who you are?”

“What, amnesia?”

“No, not…” She searched for the words. “I have lived, died, guarded my reflection in the Fade for so long…” She paused, trying to word unfathomable concepts. “I don’t know if I am the same person I was when I first came into being.”

Varric put his hands up and quickly shook his head. “Sael, that… I can’t answer that. You are the spirit of the Deep Roads and that is all I have ever known you as. How am I supposed to know about before all of that?”

“I just feel lost.” Sael inhaled a big breath, exhaling sharply as she stood up. “I’m sorry I put that on you. You don’t need to be worrying about a spirit’s internal crisis.”

He stood with her, bringing her hand to his lips and gently kissing it once, sealing it in place with a couple pats. “Sael, you are always going to be playing leagues out of my own. Andraste take me now if I won’t even try to help you when you need me.”

Sael leaned over to kiss the point of widow’s peak. “I don’t deserve you.”

“You probably don’t.” He chuckled, jabbing her in the arm before attempting to leave the edge of the Deep Roads. Sael felt her heart lighten as she took the lead and went back into Thedas to face the tasks at hand.


	12. Chapter 12

Cassandra rammed Solas’s cabin door. She was a violent mix of furious and frantic panic. She barely gave him enough time to understand her ravings as she dragged him toward the stables. Between the pebbles and divots he was hauled over Solas managed to piece together the reason for the woman’s mad rush. Sael had left once again without Cassandra. Bouncing between approving the fact that Sael had headed out on a task for Leliana and the Inquisition, and condemning the foolish of taking no one but Varric. No escort, support troops or even a single scout from Leliana. Solas was finally able to regain his composure when Cassandra, with no grace to her name, released him into the flank of a horse. Both rode off in a hurry to the Hinterlands in the hope to catch Sael on her way there.

“There isn’t suppose to be a hill here!” Sael roared into the map in her hands. Her horse nickered, stamping at the ground. Sael groaned and shoved the map back into the pouch. “Seriously, this place is horrible. Fallow Mire, a pool of darkspawn corpses or even Haven’s outhouse is more appealing.”

“Yelling at a map isn’t going to help, you expecting it to apologize and give you directions?” Varric teased, spurring his pony forward and pulling the map out. “Shortcut…” He held it up smirking ear to ear. “You were holding it sideways.”

Sael leveled a conflicted glare at him. “How lovely my personal navigator can spot the mistake so quickly.”

“Shit…” Varric pulled the reins to put the pair back on the right path.

They passed the marker of Thelm Gold-Handed, the Dreamer on the way to the lake. Varric stopped periodically to check the map, adjusting their heading as they needed. Dwarf and spirit kept a solid canter, horses snorting as they cleared protruding large rocks and roots. The sun was at it’s peak when the lake finally came into view. A pond in when faced with it in person. Trees staked claim on a portion of it’s shores. To one end was a tiny dock and through the ponds diameter was a catwalk of wooden planks to a lone island. A rustic cabin was the sole building. Some heavily worn training equipment and a crumbling stone wall sat on either side.

Varric and Sael dismounted, hitching both horses to a dock pillar. They moved across the catwalk, sounds of conversation started to reach them. Sael scanned the four men, three of which looked to be plain frightened farmers being instructed by the fourth, an oak of a man in sun faded black gambeson. A fearsome face, a full thick black beard and mustache, and intense eyes.

“...make this a fight, not us.” A deep thick voice spoke. Sael and Varric hurried up towards the man ignoring the eyeing farmers he was instructing. “Remember how to carry your shields!” He pulled the farmers training buckler up a bit. “You’re not hiding, you’re holding. Otherwise it’s useless.” He paced up and down the small line of farmers.

“Warden?” Sael cleared her throat. “Warden Blackwall?”

The man nearly spun on his heels, rushing over to her and Varric. “You’re not…” He narrowed his eyes at her. “How do you know my name? Who sent-” His shield shot up, catching an arrow aimed for Sael’s head. A group of thieves and thugs moved a short ways down in the nearby treeline. “That’s it. Help out or get out. We’re dealing with these idiots first!” Blackwall growled, he charged into battle ordering the conscripts to follow after hm.

Varric took up partial cover behind a boulder, bolts fried to trip up attackers. The bandit’s single archer didn’t get a chance to fire a second arrow before Varric’s pierced through their helmet. That left three farmers swarming one, Blackwall with his axe against a larger bandit with a broadsword and Sael alone with a scrawny short sword and shield opponent. Her gliding dodges winning her several frustrated shouts from her assailant. Arms tucked behind her back and a winning smile as she rolled off his back. A hard shove from her butt sent the bandit into the dirt, scrambling back onto his feet, red face and glaring.

“Shortcut, you dancing or fighting?!” Varric shouted to her, a bolt fired to shove a sword arm back from Blackwall.

“I was having some fun.” Sael called back. She stomped her foot into the dirt and impaled her opponent’s chest with a thin spike through the heart. “There,” She gestured to the corpse as Varric approached. “Quick, precise and no fuss. Happy, kill-joy?” She batted bit of dirt from her clothes.

“It’s less showy for your usual.” Varric prodded the dead man’s arm. Looking back up at Sael. “Sure you’re feeling better.”

“Unchallenged, at best.” She smirked back.

Blackwall cut down his bandit. “Sorry bastards.” He turned and headed to the farmers, all alive and well. “Good word, conscripts.” He gave an approving nod. “Even if this shouldn’t have happened. They could have-” He paused, unwilling to put a worse fate into words. “Well, thieves are made, not born. Take back what they stole. Go back to your families. You saved yourselves.” He watched the farmers collect their belongings and hurry away.

Sael took the farmers places. “Farmers managing against bandits. A rare sight to see.”

Blackwall’s face flickered with a sneer. “You’re no farmer. Why do you know my name? Who are you two?”

“Varric Tethras, humble author and charming rogue.”

“Sael, spirit of the Deep Roads.” She ignored Varric’s jaw dropping. “I’m an agent of the Inquisition, your name has come up. I’m investigating whether the disappearance of Wardens has anything to do with the murder of the Divine.”

“A spirit of the Deep Roads, that’s rich.” The reason why she was there caught him off guard. “Maker’s balls, the Wardens and the Divine? That can’t-” Blackwall paced a moment. “No, you’re asking so you don’t really know. First off, I didn’t know they disappeared. But we do that, right? No more Blight, job done. Wardens are the first thing forgotten.”

“You’re asking me like I know that’s what you do. I’ve never know Wardens to disappear. Go about their lives however they want until the Calling, but never just disappear.” Sael raised an eyebrow.

Blackwall’s lips pulled tight together.

“We’re just looking to see if Wardens know anything about it.” Varric stepped in to defuse the two.

“One thing I will tell you: no Warden killed the Divine. Our purpose isn’t political.” Blackwall broke the tension.

Sael sighed, eyes cast to the sky as if looking for a deities help. She looked back down to the Warden. “Alright, so where are the others?”

“I haven’t seen any Wardens for months.” Blackwall defended. “I travel alone, recruiting. Not much interest because the Archdemon is a decade dead, and no need to conscript because there is no Blight coming.”

“For now.” Sael muttered under her breath. She waved off Blackwall’s question look.

“Treaties give Wardens the right to take what we need. Who we need. These idiots forced this fight, so I ‘conscripted’ their victims. They had to do what I said, so I told them to stand. Next time they won’t need me.”

Sael and Varric exchanged looks, unsure how the conversation went from Wardens locations to conscripting farmers into self defense. “...Okay.”

“Grey Wardens can inspire, make you better than you think you are.” Blackwall spoke with a sad expression.

A heavy silence drifted in. Sael clapped her hands together. “Right, so this has been fun, but in the end… absolutely useless to us in finding the other Wardens.” Sael gave a short wave goodbye and started off with Varric.

“Inquisition.” Blackwall called, walking after Sael and Varric. “Agent, did you say? Hold a moment.” The two stopped and turned to face him. “The Divine is dead and the sky is torn. Events like these, thinking we’re absent is almost as bad as thinking we’re involved. If you’re trying to put things right, maybe you need a Warden. Maybe you need me.” There was a strong sense of resolve in his voice.

“One lone Grey Warden?” Sael crossed her arms over her chest. “Tall order to take on alone.”

“It’ll save the fucking world, if pressed.”

Sael couldn’t hide the smile that leapt to her face. “Alright, I am here as the Inquisition. You’re coming with us.”

Varric let Sael start across the dock. “You know she wasn’t joking about the Deep Roads bit.”

“Doesn’t matter when you’re back to back in the thick of battle.”

Cassandra released the raven to send word back to Leliana in Haven. They had received word that Sael located the Grey Warden Blackwall and now was on her way to the Storm Coast to investigate the rumored trail of Wardens. Leliana’s raven had managed to find herself and Solas well before they reached the Hinterlands. There was no clue if it was a perspective owner or the birds were enchanted to find their targets, all Cassandra knew was to be grateful for it for sparing her several days riding. The pair broke camp and rode North for Storm Coast. The closer they got, the more rain began to come down.

The Storm Coast was a rocky mountains rain soaked land set on a shore of the Waking Sea. Tumultuous weather battered every rock, tree, and denizen, earning it’s uninventive name. Grey storm clouds swirled above, a fog mirroring it around ancient dwarven statues and perfectly shaped basalt columns. Giant spiders and a heavy population of grizzly bears roamed cliff walled forests.

A camp for the Inquisition was already made before Seeker and Elf arrived. The pair were greeted by a female dwarf scout. A pleasant plain woman with a sweet smile. “Lady Cassandra?” She tapped her chest with her fist in a salute. “Is the Herald with you?”

“We were hoping her and Varric would have been here already.” Cassandra held back a groan. “Is there no word, miss-”

“Scout Hardin, your Ladyship, welcome to The Storm Coast.” Hardin gave a disappointed glance around the area. “We’ve been unable to send out messages, our efforts here have been delayed.”

Solas stepped up. “Has there been a problem?” He ignored the annoyed glare from Cassandra.

Hardin bowed her head in greeting to another of the famed Herald’s companions. “There is a group of bandits operating in the area. They know the terrain and our small party has trouble going up against them.” Hardin balanced her attention between the two. “Some of our soldiers went to speak with their leader. Haven’t heard back, through.”

Cassandra straightened. “We can’t leave our people in the hands of bandits. The Herald is capable of taking care of herself.”

“The Herald and a dwarf crafted from charism itself.” Solas chuckled, “Nothing in all of Thedas could go wrong.”

“I thought I brought you along to help me, not cause undue stress.” Cassandra hissed.

Solas closed his eyes and smirked. “Forgive me, I was unable to collect my manners when you kidnapped me from my bed.” Cassandra turned red and manage to stifle a sputter. Solas faced back to Hardin. “We will find the miss soldiers.”

Hardin’s eyes darted between the two a few times before piecing together an answer. “Thank you. That’s a relief.” A deep breath. “The soldiers didn’t have an exact location for the bandits, but they were starting their search further down the beach. With all this fuss, we haven’t been able to conduct a proper search for the Wardens either.”

“We’ll see it done.” Cassandra assured Hardin. “If the Herald should arrive, do not let her leave the camp till we return.”

“I’ll do my best, Lady Cassandra.” Hardin didn’t think complaining or arguing would do any good. “Well, good luck, enjoy the sea air. I hear it’s good for the soul.” Hardin bowed out and left the two to work.

Cassandra turned to Solas, “We must find those soldiers first. There are many Wardens, our own men are limited.”

“There is always a great number of self entitled fools.” Solas grumbled, trying to come to terms with searching for an organization he deeply disliked. “I agree on locating our people first.”

“Solas,” Cassandra sounded concerned. “No matter our feelings towards Wardens, we must serve the Inquisition.”

The elf male turned away and started in the direction Hardin had given. He thought it best that Cassandra not see the cringe on his face. Nothing more was said as the two set out. The silence weighed heavy on Cassandra as she traveled with Solas. He was a mage, and an elf with an odd chip on his shoulder. There wasn’t much she could do to pry more out of him. He deflected most questions with corrections and additional information rather than a direct answer. He said a great deal when he decided to be talkative, none of it turned out personal. With the members of the Inquisition, he was aloof and lost in tomes and maps. Cassandra thought back to the only times she saw him talking at length with anyone, Sael. The spirit and mage talked frequently, but rarely ever above close knit whispers and facial expressions.

Cassandra was pulled from her thoughts as Solas stopped suddenly. She looked around to see they had reached the top of a wide craggy cliff at the foot of an even larger one. He hunched down to the balls of his feet and motioned for the Seeker to do the same. Patrolling around a dilapidated building was a group of armed men. Possibly the bandits that Hardin had mentioned before. There were only four of them, all similarly dressed. Most bandits wore whatever they had, only organized groups had ever made an attempt at a uniform appearance. They were armed only with swords, one carried a shield even though it was hooked at his back.

Wasting no time, Cassandra imbued her shield and charged at the bandit group. Solas cursed under his breath for the foolhardy attack. It left him precious little time to protect the Seeker and provide a suitable offense and support. He resolved himself to the idea that if he couldn’t keep an eager fighter as this, than he was in the wrong place to begin with. His barrier spell triggered, barely catching Cassandra as she rushed outside his range. The magic protected her shoulder from a sword slash as she smashed her shield into a pair of surprised bandits.

Swords flashed in the rain as Cassandra parried and countered two of the bandits. The third made a novice mistake of not minding his footing. He stepped onto an ice trap belonging to Solas and was immediately encased in a thick shell of ice. The fourth, shield up, came after Solas. Magic bounced of the treated wood and metal. Much longer and he was going to be forced into staff to sword combat. A problem for a mage who neglected a majority of his physical training in the last eight hundred years. Solas thought back to Sael’s attacks and decided to promptly cobble together a new spell. A pair of massive bracers of jagged ice formed into a single vicious point. The bandit skittered to an unwilling stop. His own momentum carried him forward enough to force shield and an ice bracer to collide. Shield now struck on the point, Solas brought the free ice bracer around from his side to come smashing into the bandits head. Solas let the man slide free of his shield, his head a slick paste on the elf’s ice.

Cassandra put a boot to a gored bandits chest and shoved him down the length of her sword. She turned back to see Solas. “That is not an attack I have seen you use before.” Cassandra eyed the rapidly vanishing bracers. “But the Herald has, many times. Taking notes, Solas?”

“There is no harm in continuing to learn.” Solas channeled fire through his arms to warm them again. “Any true master will tell you there is always more.”

“Indeed.” Cassandra wiped her blade clean and sheathed it. They made their way into the rotting house. There was no sign of any owners, just squatters. On the only standing piece of furniture was a map that Cassandra took. It was a map marking camps and places of interest to the bandits. “It looks like the bandits are camped further along the beach.”

Solas thumbed through a waterlogged journal. Bodies that could only be the Inquisition soldiers at his feet. “Our men by a group calling themselves the Blades of Hessarian. It seems there is a way to challenge their leader.”

“Ambitious.” Cassandra came over to read the entry herself. “They were following a code, there might be hope yet to help them see the light. This mentions a ‘Mercy Crest’ in order to issue the challenge.” Solas said nothing for or against the matter. “This crest will provide us with options.”

A silent relief found them both in the fact that the Storm Coast was a small section of shoreline. Sadly, it still wasn’t small enough for Cassandra and Solas. They picked their way down the path, losing their footing enough times to curse the rain for existing in the first place. Past the foot of the farthest reaching living cliff, the pair found a sight to behold and fear. A single giant locked in combat with a large high dragon. Lighting from her maw shattered boulders thrown at her from the hairy, tusked giant. The two’s fight shaking the beaches with enough force to shift the beach sands and rocks. Cassandra took a moment to gather her wits, warning coming to her in her brother’s voice. She quickly suggested they find shelter for the night, if the Maker wasn’t too busy, these behemoths would keep to each other and the victor move on. Solas didn’t need to speak to agree, he simply turned and headed back the way they came. A cave was quickly found and cleared of monsters, leaving the two to camp in the cold damp darkness.

By mornings light, Cassandra had quickly put basalt columns in the top five worst places she had ever slept. That was to include a hammock on a ship in an open ocean storm, a makeshift cot over a thorn bush to avoid water, and a rotten dwarven bed. Basalt found itself tied for first with initiates bed provided by the Seekers. Dawn interrupted her final tally. Cassandra rose groaning as if she was suffering fatal wounds. She caught sight of Solas sleeping soundly some ways from her. She approached and roughly prodded his leg. He opened one displeased eye and sat up with more grace than should have been alloted. Camp was broken down and they set out in search of the Grey Warden camps and the Blades of Hessarian fort.

The Warden’s camps were marked on Cassandra’s map. She looked it over. It appeared that two were just past the vague location of the Hessarian fort. She picked over the instructions for making the Mercy Crest, it was going to require that they head back to the first Inquisition camp or establish the next purposed camp. She gripped the map tighter, growling Sael’s name under her breath. These were not the choices she was suppose to be making now, but without Sael there was no other vessel of authority to be found. She felt the anger prickling inside her. Cassandra stopped, lowered the map and took a deep breath. Focused on the sounds of the animals. Birds chirping, rams banging horns together and the bears grunting through the trees. Waves rising and falling back of the rocky beach. The distant and faint sounds of soldiers training.

Cassandra’s eyes shot open, head snapping in the direction the training was coming from. With the dragon and giant gone the sounds of the Storm Coast were no longer buried under them. It was the distinct clinking of metal on metal. Of instructors teaching and mabari barking. With little else to go on, Cassandra led Solas through the woods and treacherous cliffs toward the sound.

A wooden stake wall came into view past the treeline. Cassandra had done her best to make a haphazard Mercy Crest out of materials found along their way. It was nothing fancy, and she begged the Maker they accepted it. A single mage and fighter would find themselves in an extremely one sided battle should they not. The guards looked them over as Cassandra and Solas approached, weapons at the lower ready. A shared glance between guards and the newcomers were let inside.

“How fortunate.” Solas grumbled quietly. It was a dangerous situation the Seeker had led him into. Minor bandit group or troublesome rabble, they still were organized enough to remain together. If Cassandra managed to recruit them via killing their leader in a challenge, their loyalty would be hers, not Sael’s. A sudden show of interest or eagerness to claim the band could raise questions in Cassandra he didn’t want. Annoyance was going to be his best card to play.

“Fortunate for the two against twelve and two mabari.” Cassandra corrected. They walked through the camp of Hessarians until they were faced with a larger blonde man in a dark gambeson, flanked by armored mabari.

The man straightened, a smug grin down at Cassandra. “So you would challenge the Blades of Hessarian?”

“You killed Inquisition soldiers, we cannot let this stand.” Cassandra matched the man’s foul glare.

“You want justice?” The leader hissed. “Then claim it!” A large hatchet came swinging up for Cassandra’s face. Before she could take advantage of the opening he left, she heard the man choking. She risked a look at his face to see it turning three shades of blue. A ghostly green tentacle wrapped around his throat several times. Cassandra twisted back to see Solas, summoning barriers and the same sickly green energy curling around the staff’s head. Cassandra was thrown back by the weight of a mabari crashing and clawing its way up her shield The other diving for her legs. Snapping jaws were suddenly hung limp from speared heads on ice spikes. Cassandra glowered at the mage.

“I would not risk your life on a challenges promise.” Solas explained, willing the magic back. It wasn’t a blade that came for him, but a man from among the untouched members.

He looked as if he was recovering from shock. “Your worship, the Blades of Hessarian are at your service.” He saluted and bowed his head to Solas. “If you want eyes on the coast, here we are.”

“There will be no more attacks on Inquisition's people?” Solas kept a battle ready grip on his staff.

“No, your worship.”

“And you now work for us?”

“Yes.”

“All of you, or is there dissension in the ranks to be expected?”

“All will honor the outcome of the challenge. More specifically, you, your worship.”

“Inquisition forces will be in contact with you in a short while.” Solas thanked the man and waved him off. He turned to see a displeased look on Cassandra’s face. “Unsatisfied.”

“Depends.” Cassandra crossed her arms over her chest. “Will you be the one to explain to the Herald whom these Blades of Hessarian answer to?”

Solas adjusted his clothing and armor, giving little attention to Cassandra’s question. “I’m confident she will hear me out.”

“More comfortable than confident.” Cassandra sheathed her sword. A venom in her voice.

Solas froze for a second. He turned to face Cassandra, giving her his fullest attention. “If you have a problem with how I aid the Herald in matters she isn’t present for, I would suggest you speak now. The Pentaghast family is very old and revered. Not know for indecisiveness, petty behavior or baseless accusations.”

“You assume a lot about my family for barely even knowing me.” Cassandra squared her shoulders back. “A man with that sort of knowledge of my family should mind his words.”

“A man should, and I would, were I a man.” Solas casually gave an ear a tug. “I look forward to your report to the spymaster and Herald when we return to Haven.” He smiled at Cassandra. It was an empty gesture at best and it grated against her. “Now, I believe with the bandits handled we have the vanishing Grey Wardens to look into.” Solas turned on his heels and started for the bases only door.


	13. Chapter 13

“Are you sure about this?” Varric watched Sael rifle through the scattered parchments that had been left behind. “The marks Leliana made show this as the last known camp of the Grey Wardens. We’re starting at the opposite end.”

Sael sat on a small nearby boulder, intensely scanning one of the papers. “Varric, come on. If we start at the first one we’d have to go to the furthest reaches of the map. This way, we’re only crossing the map once for this job.”

“I can’t argue with that.” Varric shrugged, smirking. He picked up one of the papers for himself. “Something in here about them looking for someone. Looks like they left Storm Coast.” He finished reading. “Doesn’t say where exactly.”

Sael picked a few papers and folded them into her bag. “We’ll check the others to be sure and see if there is more information at the other camps.”

Blackwall finally stepped up, checking over the other parchments and signs of the camp. Surprisingly the Warden had been rather shy when talking about the Grey Wardens any deeper than propagande. Sael was bothered by the Warden. There were few of their organization that never stepped foot in the Deep Roads, and Blackwall seemed to be apart of that group. This man bore a familiar name but there was something that just didn’t add up and it was frustrating her being unable to put a name to it.

“The other camps will undoubtedly have more to them, this is clearing an exit rather than moving on.” Blackwall dropped the unhelpful papers and followed after Varric and Sael.

They headed for the camp marked as the third. It was a broken down hut on top of a small cliff. A tattered banner flapped in the wind over the largest opening. Sael and Varric stopped short at the sound of a fire crackling. Blackwall raised his shield in preparation. Hope shot through the three, perhaps another Grey Warden had remained behind. Varric pulled Bianca from his shoulder and crept around the hut with Sael in front and Blackwall guarding her. A partially sheltered campfire burned in a ring of stones. Next to it sat a man in Grey Warden armor for a rogue. It was modified and heavily damaged but undoubtedly belonging to a Warden. At his back were strapped a pair of vicious looking daggers. Last time Sael had seen those blades, they were being plunged into both eyes of an archdemon.

“Arthur!” Sael broke cover and rushed to the Grey Warden. “Arthur Cousland, you sonuvabitch!”

The Warden whipped around on his log only to have Sael crash into him. A boisterous laughter came from the two sprawled on the ground. He pushed himself up on his elbows. “Sael, you demon!” He roared back.

Varric and Blackwall came out from beside the hut as Sael and Arthur stood up. “An old friend?” Varric chuckled.

Sael nodded, she gave Arthur a hard pat to the back of his shoulder. “Old friend for sure. Anyone who manages to kill an Archdemon and put a stop to a Blight is a friend for life.”

Blackwall balked, his face losing color in an instant.

Varric was in awe. “Wait, the Hero of Ferelden, Arthur Cousland?”

He bowed to Varric and Blackwall. “Simply doing my duty as a Grey Warden. The title doesn’t fit as well as you’d think.” He turned back Sael. “The fabled spirit of the Deep Roads, has it been age? You don’t look a day over two thousand. Who are your companions?”

“Any smoother and I’ll skip you over a lake.” Sael smiled. Turning to face the other two men in the group. “This is Varric Tethras, author and fantastic scoundrel. And the other is Blackwall, a Grey Warden and the only other one we’ve seen.”

“Blackwall?” Arthur looked over the other Warden. Blackwall stilled under the other’s gaze. “It has been such a long time since we fought at each other's side. How time changes us.”

“...” Blackwall gave a stiff short nod. “Yes, it has.” Arthur was a tall, lean man, equally dark hair with black stubble. Grey eyes picked over Blackwall.

“Right, this is all well and cheery but,” Varric spoke up. “Warden Cousland, do you know where the other Wardens are?”

“No.” Arthur’s face fell a bit. “I came looking for the others but all I keep finding is old remains. So I came out after hearing Ferelden had a new Inquisition setting up camp.”

Sael went over to Arthur’s bag resting against the hut, hoisting it up over her shoulder. “Well if you’re looking for work, we wouldn’t turn down the Hero of Ferelden.”

Arthur sighed, a smile on his face. “An offer from the Inquisition in the Age of the Dragon or the next. How can I say no?”

Varric gave an approving thumb while Blackwall tensed behind the group. “Never can have too many Wardens to help.”

Warden and elves traveled toward the maps next marker. Second pointed out, the third visited. Arthur had taken point, Varric and Sael in the middle and Blackwall maintaining a rear guard at a questionably growing distance. They were coming round the age old remains of a landslide when voices broke the quiet. Arthur raised a fist, halting the party, fingers gesturing to everyone to take up battle positions. Varric expertly made his way up a boulder with another jutting upward to act as cover. Sael summoned her stone bracers around her arms. The point on them as fine as a surgeon’s needle. Blackwall hesitated before silently rushing up to charge with the other Warden.

Varric peered past his cover, Arthur, Blackwall and Sael waiting for his signal. Bianca following his eyesight. He lowered it and whistled loudly. The other’s jerked in place, confused at the dwarf’s signal. It gave away his position.

“Relax,” Varric smiled, “It’s mom.”

“Mom?” Sael’s eyebrows knitted together, releasing with realization. “Cassandra, She’s here?!”

Arthur and Blackwall lowered their weapons, careful not to let their feet get smashed by Sael’s collapsing rocks. Varric was sent first to greet Cassandra. Sael knew well enough that once Cassandra got a hold of her it was going to be the start of a week long lecture. There was no hurry to see the Seeker. The sound of livid chasitizing came to assault Sael and both Wardens behind her. She swallowed hard before entering Cassandra’s line of sight. The Seeker noticed and left Varric pawing the back of his neck and looking sheepishly at the rain puddle in front of him.

“Again!” Cassandra bellowed at Sael. “Again you took off without adequate protection. Do you have any idea how worried I was about you?! There were decisions needed to be made, soldiers in trouble and you run off with…him?!” She threw an arm back to point at Varric. She saw Sael make eye contact with Solas. “He’s not going to bail you out of this! He’s just as upset with you.”

Sael shot a pleading look at Solas. “Seriously?”

“There are some points that I agree with Seeker Pentaghast.” Solas smirked knowing he was only stoking Cassandra’s fire.

Sael’s face fell into a deadpan glare. “Fenedhis, delltash.” She growled, rolling her eyes. Turning back to Cassandra. “I wasn’t in the mood for extra company.”

“No, you were in the mood for death.” Cassandra snapped back. “You could’ve been killed, or worse.”

Sael looked over her shoulder to Blackwall and Arthur. Blackwall put his hands up. “I’m no parent and won’t say anything against your mother.”

“I am not her mother!” Cassandra barked at Blackwall. “If I were I might have some better grip on her.” She leveled a seething glare at Sael.

“No.” Sael lifted a finger, knowing full well she was signing a death warrant for herself. “If you were my mother, you’d have some experience in how to handle a crisis without panic.”

All, save for Cassandra and Sael, choked back laughter and shock before quickly making themselves scarce. Cassandra’s eyes went wide before sinking close. “You’re right. I refuse to engage in this childish argument. You will continue to refuse to listen to my advice.”

Sael opened her mouth to correct, Solas caught her eye with a cautioning hand. “Fine. I’ve tracked down Blackwall and ran into an additional Warden.” She thumbed to the two men behind her.

Cassandra bowed her head slightly to Blackwall, not making an effort in hiding her exhaustion. She looked to the other and paled immediately. “Grey Warden Cousland, the Hero of Ferelden? How...I mean, he…”

“Was looking for Wardens like us.” Sael stepped aside to let Arthur introduce himself. “He’s coming back to Haven with us.”

“But the other camps?” Cassandra tried to remember what else they were in Storm Coast for. “T-the murdered soldiers?”

Sael stopped in her tracks heading for Solas. “Murdered soldiers?” 

“They were slain by the Blades of Hessarians.” Cassandra looked psat Sael to Solas. “We recruited them to be agents for us in Storm Coast.”

“In the name of the Inquisition, you recruited our soldier’s murderers?” Sael turned to Cassandra, her face impassive.

“Solas was the one who actually claimed their loyalty.” Cassandra offered back.

Sael took a deep breath. “Arthur, Blackwall, this has been a very poor representation of the Inquisition, for that I am sorry. If you are still up for it, we’ll head to Haven.”

Both Wardens nodded.

“Varric, can you round up the horses and two more for the Wardens?” Sael tossed her pouch to him. He nodded, flicked two fingers from his forehead before leaving. “Solas, we’ll need to talk about this, but back at Haven.”

Solas folded an arm over his chest and gave a shallow bow. “I have no doubt.”

“Cassandra,” Sael’s face remained empty. “Help the Wardens with their gear.” She left to climb into her own saddle and waited for the others several feet down the path back to Haven.

Leliana, Cullen and Jospehine had remained busy in Haven. Josphine began working nobles and their egos in the directions the Inquisition needed. Cullen trained the raw recruits daily. He sent soldiers out on runs for documents Josphine needed or Leliana didn’t mind having travel in the open. The spymaster spent her days and nights listening to her network, several members having been tasked with bringing in rare documents and text that might shed some light on Sael’s shrouded history. None of the Dalish clans she could reach that would talk to her, claimed Sael as one of their own. The city elves said much of the same. It seemed that Sael was simply a single elf in the world of Thedas. It wasn’t a sufficient answer for Leliana. Reports on the woman’s actions in Hinterlands and Storm Coast suggested odd things. For one the form of magic she used, it wasn’t heard of before. Not impossible, just so improbable it boarded suspicious. Leliana called for Cullen to her tent.

Cullen pushed up the fabric ceiling as he entered. “You wanted to see me?”

“I need a wall.” Leliana said flatly not raising from her table of papers.

“One former Templar doesn’t make for a good wall.” Cullen chuckled stepping further into Leliana’s tent. He watched as she sent a scout off with instructions. “Have you found anything?”

Leliana shook her head, finally leaving the table to face Cullen. “No, and that’s what’s troubling me. She exist only as the person in front of us. There is no record or mention of her I can find. And we haven’t had time to ask her personal questions.”

Cullen shrugged. “I don’t see where I come in.”

“You were a Templar, mages under your watch at Kirkwall.” Leliana knew the subject was sore for him. “I need your training to help me. The Herald is a mage after all.”

He shuddered slightly beneath his armor. “Very well. I can’t say anything leaps to mind worth being cautious of.”

“Her magic, using the stones of Thedas as weapons,” Leliana offered. “It’s not a classical study or magic or even one found among apostates.”

“...” Cullen frowned. “I haven’t seen it in person, but I have heard some of the soldiers talk about it that have been there to see it. It’s apparently very unsettling and extremely precise. More so than lightning or ice.” Leliana gave him a look like he was supposed to have had an ephiany with that information. “That would be more of an interest to a First Enchanter rather than a Templar.”

“Solas is gone with Cassandra. We received ravens a couple days ago they were all coming back to Haven.” Leliana sighed in defeat. “Most of our mages here are so wrapped up with her being the Herald of Andraste they don’t question who she actually is.”

Cullen chuckled. “Curse of being chosen by the Maker.” He saw the frustration on Leliana’s face. “Perhaps you should be talking to Vivienne rather than me.”

“She is a Oralsian First Enchanter,” Leliana spoke aloud. Snapping her fingers at a scout lingering at her tent’s opening. “Have Lady Vivienne brought to us. I need to speak to her.” The scout nodded and took off running to the Chantry.

General and spymaster stood in silence until Vivienne came with the scout trailing behind her. She looked less than thrilled. “I will not be summoned like some common Mabari. Or are basic manners something the Inquisition isn’t training their soldiers on.”

“I’m sorry but I really needed to speak with you about the Herald.” Leliana dismissed the scout and pulled the tent closed. The three left in a candle lit tent. “I wanted to know your first impression of her.”

Vivienne raised an eyebrow and thought for a long moment as she considered how to answer. “There is power there though I would have attributed it to the mark on her hand.” 

“Would have?”

“Yes, from what I have heard she wields it with too much expertise for it to be new. I suspect there is something else to the elf woman than we are seeing.” Vivienne could see Cullen and Leliana’s faces darkening. “I have sensed energy like hers before but it’s distant and fleeting.”

“Like something trying to hide in the shadows.” Leliana bite the seam of her gloves thumb.

“More like a demon lingering at the back of a failing mage.” Vivienne felt the room grow more tense. “It’s akin to that, but I won’t say it’s accurate. I simply don’t have enough information to give you a perfect answer, dear.”

Cullen dragged a hand over his mouth. “This.” He shifted on his feet. “This is troubling to say the least.”

“Then we mu-”

The guard posted at the western road called out the arrival of Sael and the others in Haven. Cullen grunted, pushing himself from the tent. He briskly made his way down the paths to meet Sael as she entered Haven. He saw the group returning from the Storm Coast breaking apart. Two unknown men headed with bags in opposite directions. Varric went straight for his favorite spot by the fire while Cassandra nearly threw herself into the tavern. Sael and Solas were the only two that came in Cullen’s direction. The elves saw the general approaching, they said something to each other he couldn’t hear and parted, leaving Sael to intersect Cullen.

“Commander, I am exhausted and you look to have a head full of words.” Sael cut to the chase. “Out with it, please, before you lose what’s left of me to sleep and food.”

“What are you?” Cullen spat out before he could phrase his question more delicately. “I mean, I’m sorry… I was wondering-”

“You meant what you said, Cullen.” Sael interrupted. “I don’t have the energy to be offended right now. Count yourself lucky on that. I am a simple elf.”

Cullen didn’t leave or show signs of relief.

“You don’t believe me. Now who could you have been talking to to cause that?” She looked over his shoulder to see Leliana and Vivienne pretending to have an in depth conversation. Their illusion was shattered when a question on shoes was answered with a favorite food. Sael’s eyes darted back to Cullen. “I see.” She patted the former Templar on the shoulder and motioned for him to follow. Passing Vivienne and Leliana. “Let’s go you two, we’re grabbing Josphine for this.”

In the war room, Josphine rained accusatory glares on Cullen and Leliana. The commander looked like a disciplined pup. Leliana and Vivienne’s expression were guarded and intentive. Sael stood opposite the group, foot tapping on the stone floor.

“What came up while I was out?” Sael snapped the silence in two. “Seems some questions have come up. Josephine, you’re our resident diplomate.”

Josphine cleared her throat and warmed her expression for Sael. “I can’t say, Herald.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Can’t.” Josphine lifted through her stack of papers. “I haven’t heard any strange rumors or been asked any untoward questions about you.”

Sael pointed toward Cullen with a nod. “Someone has been asking around.”

“Herald,” Vivienne cut in. “I believe what the general was truly asking about your past. He merely fumbled the phrasing.”

“I find humans are most honest when drunk, angry or too young to know better.” Sael smiled coldly at Cullen. “I believe he’s a sub group, nervous.”

Cullen fixed his focus on the table’s map.

Leliana cleared her throat. “We are trying to understand the mark and we believe your history may have a part to play in it.”

“I’m sorry but I just don’t believe that.” Sael shook her head. “Alright, well I can handle any fallout from this.” She took a small knife from her belt, without warning she rammed it into her chest. The display was answered with horrified screams. The outcry died away when Sael remained unchanged and standing. “It only works like this when I focus.”

Vivienne charged magic into her hands, “A demon.”

“Hardly, those brainless twats aren’t even in the same game as me.” Sael tapped the knife’s butt and let it shoot out her back and clatter to the ground. Cullen and Leliana were stunned in silence. “I am a spirit and not some common place wisp of emotion. I am the Deep Roads.”

Vivienne didn’t back down. “Spirit can’t use magic, they possess people from beyond the Fade.”

“First Enchanter, you are correct, in the account of emotions and senses. A spirit of Command, anger or widom can’t use magic. Any of them can come across the Veil if there is enough willpower to do so. Enough strength.”

“...” Vivienne took a step back.

“Oh that is terrifying for you isn’t it?” Sael smirked, “Don’t be, spirits are hardly different than you creatures. We simply are far more adaptable with ourselves than you are.”

“Is that why you survived the Conclave? Did your crossing cause the explosion?” Leliana’s question snapped Cullen out of his daze to grip his sword.

Sael shook her head. “Still innocent of the death of your Divine. But I can’t say if my existence is the reason I survived. I don’t have any memory of that.”

Vivienne raised her hands. It threatened an attack on Sael. She suddenly found herself in a fixed glare from Sael. “Try it, I am older than the air you are breathing in gulps right now.” Vivienne calculated her chances. She lowered her hands letting the magic dissipate. “My goal is unchanged, the Breach must be closed because it promises to be the end of Thedas and that includes my Deep Roads.”

“If you’re truly a spirit of the Deep Roads,” Leliana remained statue still. “Why not clear them of Darkspawn and reopen them to the dwarves?”

“I saw the creation of the Sunburst throne. The first brick and mortar of Tevinter and you think I haven’t tried to clear that filith out?”

Leliana nodded once. “Fair. But how can we believe you are what you say you are? Could be a mage pret-”

“Boots broken. Can’t continue like this. Pull it off, pull it off, stop and off. Throw it, run, don’t let Arthur out of sight. Must protect, stop the darkspawn coming from the left. Why are there so many?! Maker, please give me strength to keep running. I can’t die here. Maker save your servant!” Sael closed her eyes and spoke the memory for all to hear. Leliana clamped her mouth shut, swaying a bit till she sank, barely grabbing the table to hold herself up. “You and Arthur spent a great deal of time in the Deep Roads. I know you, spymaster and how much you have changed since then. Your role in the death of the Archdemon.”

“...”

“I can do you both as well, or do you want to save that for another time?” Sael took in Cullen and Vivienne’s faces. “I am not here to cause problems. I am here to put an end to the Breach.”

“I can’t trust you.” Vivienne growled coldly. “You’re a pretender.”

Sael shrugged. “I recall asking if you wanted to put your coin on the Inquisition. Like it or not, I am apart of that. Does this reveal really change anything aside the way you look at me.”

Vivienne huffed, she squared her shoulders and tore herself out of the war room. Cullen and Leliana remained. The general sighed, “You have done everything asked of you and more. I can’t say I’m comfortable with this, but that mark on your hand doesn’t leave me any choice.” Leliana nodded in agreement.

Sael pushed her knuckles into her back, popping her spine. “Right. Now I am going to sleep. If I see one more saddle I might lose my shit.” She stretched over head head, turning for the door.

“Herald, wait.” Leliana halted Sael. “Does anyone else know?”  
“Yes.” Sael waved the looks on their faces away. “Aside Cassandra knowing, I won’t say who else for now. Leaves you both unsure and more likely to keep quiet for now.” She left the two in the war room to gather their reality into some assemblance of what they remembered.

Exiting the Chantry Sael caught sight of a lost looking individual standing by the doors. Exhaustion and curiosity were suddenly at each others throats in the back of her mind. Curiosity won. “Can I help you?”

He was startled. A sun crafted tan topped with midnight black hair. Heavy fighter armor with a strange crest painted on his back. “Uh, yes, I’m with the Bull’s chargers and I’m looking to speak to the Herald of Andraste. Having trouble getting anyone to talk to.”

“You have me know.” Sael put a hand to his shoulder to guide him and herself away from the door. “You can talk to me directly.”

“Thank you,” The man was confused. “I’m Cremisius Aclassi, second in command for Bull’s Chargers and we got word of some Tevinter mercenaries working out on the Storm Coast. My company commander, Iron Bull, offers this information free of charge.”

Sael smiled. “Well that’s kind of him.”

“If you would like to see what Bull’s Chargers can do for the Inquisition, meet us there and watch us work.” Cremisius spoke with a great deal of pride in his voice.

“Anything special about your Iron Bull from all the other mercenary groups out there?” Sael raised an eyebrow, this was uncommon.

“He’s a Qunari, you know those guys with the big horns. We’re loyal and he-”

“Stop right there. That is enough to grab my interest.” Sael beamed. “I have met maybe two qunari in my life and there is no way I am missing a third. Give me a day and night of sleep and food and I’ll be on my way.”

Cremisius was shoved off to the first soldier Sael could get her hands on and ordered he be given a bed and as much food and drink as he wanted. Sael hurried back to her cabin, barring the door with a chair and a sign in the window that explained her demands for uninterrupted sleep and her intentions for when she woke up.

Cassandra shuffled past Sael’s cabin, reading the sign in passing. She froze and reread it several times. She laughed once to herself. “Maker’s balls, she actually leaving a note with what she’ll do when she’s awake.” Cassandra stood straighter. “There’s hope for her yet.”


	14. Chapter 14

The representative from Bull’s Chargers left the following morning, well before dawn had even broke the horizon. Sael had seen him cross through Haven through the crack in a window. The whisk in her hand stopped for a second before a servant gently reminded her to keep mixing else the batter would sink. It meant little to Sael but she did as she was asked.

“Your ladyship,” One of the kitchen servants came up, a troubled look. “You ought not be seen here. No telling what people will say.”

Sael laughed. “I’m sorry but I much rather the company of you lot any day than a bunch of stuffy visiting nobles.” She handed over the mixing bowl to a reaching elf. “I’ve asked you guys to ease up on the ‘ladyship’ bit. Alas’en is all I’ll settle for in formalities.”

A mousy elf man dared to approach the counter Sael sat on. “You’re the Herald though, won’t we get in trouble?”

“I don’t like treating any of you like servants, slaves. That is…” She recalled the treatment of dwarves, elfs in Tevinter’s early days. The still persistent alienages. “No. If I’m the Herald and the voice of Andraste.” She spoke with a thick mocking tone. “I would rather you are all fairly paid and choose to work here.”

“Your lady-I...Miss Alas’en,” A servant spoke from the corner, plucking feathers from a chicken. “Most of us are...barely paid when the old Lordship resided here.”

A crashing sound came from the otherside of the kitchen door. The staff and Sael were startled and watched the door expecting more. A gnarled man bashed the door open with his palm. An angry look etched on his face.

“You lot, how dare you!?” He roared. “I step out to see about a steer for the Inquisition and you trick our Herald into helping you! No cook will have his staff disobeying any or-” He fell silent, a single quill thick stone point jutted from the floor to gently press at the bulb of his nose.

Sael’s face was dark, a scowl to match the anger in her eyes. “Is this how you treat the staff? How you treat your help?” He stammered but the point pushed a hairs length further to silence him. “An organization bent on helping the people of Thedas and here we have a rotten apple abusing his employees? That simply won’t do.”

No one in that kitchen so much as inhaled with the cook at the needle point of Sael’s anger. “These are good people and are here because they believe in the Inquisition. I won’t have them or anyone else mistreated. Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear.” It was hardly a question, more so a test of intelligence to see if the cook was willing to challenge her authority. He nodded vigorously. “Good, now go see about the steer. Again.” The cook abandoned the kitchen with all the haste he could summon.

“Miss. Alas’en?” A woman broke the quiet.

Sael shook her head. “I won’t stand for the people who help make the Inquisition work being treated badly.” She turned to the collection of the kitchen staff. “Promise me, if anyone ever treats any of you like your less than dirt, you tell me. Not Josphine, the general or Leliana, me.”

A dwarf among the elves smirked. “A real champion of the little people.”

Sael let a mischievous smile fall onto her face. “Oh there is one thing never to forget. The poor and unappreciated will always outnumber the rich and powerful. It you they should fear.”

“And what does that make you?” A familiar voice came from the door.

The kitchen’s occupants looked to see Solas standing in the doorway. Sael seem to relax at the sight of him. “A champion of the… underdogs.” She waved him in, watching him take a knife and begin to peel potatoes. “And what do we owe your visit.”

Solas turned the potatoe over in his hands, peeling the otherside. “I heard a commotion and came to see what was the cause. I find myself with a lack of shock.” He raised an eyebrow to the stone spike where it had trapped the cook. “And a summon.”

The staff resumed their kitchen duties, albeit much quieter than usual. Each trying to pretend they weren’t listening to the elves talking. Sael let them listen. “I start parties everywhere I go.” She took a bowl of berries and picked them from their branches. “A summon, from who?”

“Cousland, he seems to think I am the best chance of finding you when you don’t want to be.” Solas diced as he talked. “I can’t say he’s wrong though. I am also in need of your attention when you have time.”

The women in the kitchen flinched, muffled giggles under their breaths. Sael stole a moment to look Solas over, a simple action that was quickly become a treat for her eyes. Words hadn’t been found to describe the way his presence filled a room. He looked like a statue of flawless marble, criminally dressed in beggars clothes. “A choice of who to make wait, the Hero of Ferelden or the apostate elvhen?” The staff went as silent as the grave, waiting. “I think Arthur will keep just fine as he is. Where would you like to talk?”

Solas lifted his head, a sultry smirk flickering in the light of an oven’s fire. “Now won’t this be the talk of Haven. I have a secluded place in mind.” He pushed his diced potatoes into a bowl, the scraping sending goosebumps across the staff. “Do you have time now?” He turned to an elf servant. “Or do you require the Herald a moment longer?”

The woman shook her head. “No, Master Solas, she has been more than a wonderful help.” She took the bowl pressed into her hands from Solas. “A moment alone, sir, rare indeed.”

“Indeed.” He flashed a tolerant smile before stepping back out the kitchen door.

Sael hopped down from the counter, the staff’s women giggle and whispering to each other. “Our little secret?” A finger to pursed lips as she made a soft shushing sound. The collective nodded, beaming with pride and joy.

Cassandra stopped training with her dummy as Sael and Solas passed by on the dirt road out of Haven. She called out to ask where they were going only to be cut off with the answer. A simple walk around Haven before a war room meeting. Cassandra groaned, trusting that was the truth was harder than she would admit, but there was little other choice.

Through the woods surrounding Haven there was an old apothecary’s cabin. Notes and empty bottles and vials scattered all across the tables. Dried herbs and flowers filled the rafters. Solas cleared a table for Sael to sit on, allowing him easier access to the mark in her hand. He turned her hand over several times in his own. He was searching through the magic for something he wouldn’t identify at first.

He sighed and released her hand. “I’m sorry, it seems the mark has embedded itself into your very being.” Solas sat back in the only intact chair. “There doesn’t seem to be a way to remove it at the moment without killing you or taking your arm off.”

Sael cuffed her wrist with her opposite hand, twisting it around to ease a nonexistent pain. “So I am trapped as the Herald of Andraste? Is it ready to do whatever it is you need it to do?”

Solas gave her a confused look for a moment before realizing the truth. “We haven’t discussed this yet, have we? Not that we’ve have time to do so.”

“Not with Cassandra and Varric always within some semblance of earshot, no.” Sael brought a foot up to rest her other leg on. “What did you intend to do with the mark? Why don’t you have it?” He was quieter for longer than she liked. “Please, don’t make up a narrative for me, no tricks. The truth, Dread Wolf.”

“Not an easy thing to hear.” Solas rest a knuckle on his lips, thinking. “It’s…” He looked at Sael’s intent face, she was fixed on him. “I think it would be best to explain first. Do you know the Dalish legends of the gods?”

“Yes, the incredibly powerful mages elviated into godhood.”

“I figured as much, you know who I am after all.” Solas nodded. “The Veil I created to lock away all their madness and wanton murder and war. Banishing them. Do you know what that did? What it took to accomplish that?”

“...” Sael eyes found a paper on the floor to stare at. “I watched beings I had known for several centuries wither and die. I watched the initial confuse as they began to age and eventually die of it. I lost more friends than I could recount properly.” She took a tense deep breath. “I don’t know exactly what it took to bring up the Veil but I know it was a series of spells no one even fathomed as possible.”

Solas leaned forward, fingers weaved together. “It’s my fault. The ignorance and misguided lore of the Dalish. Proudly displaying vallaslin that were little more than control and a slavers brand. The descendants drawing in squalor at the alienages. Every elf in slavery in the Tevinter empire. The fools that flocked to the Qun.” Solas trailed off.

“You can’t take the credit for all their lives.” Sael put a hand to his shoulder. “It’s rather narcissistic to claim to have ruined all their lives.”

He smiled to the floor. “My Veil robbed you of dear friends and you tell me not to be too harsh on myself. And now, after my sleep I was too weak to open it myself and set it on the path to be opened by another.”

“The mark?” Sael glanced at her hand. “You never intended to open this yourself?”

Solas shook his head. “I meant for another to open a relic. I said nothing more because it was supposed to kill them. I would have claimed the mark afterward.”

“Solas, you’re impossible sometime.” She slipped off the table to sit on her knees at his feet. “Have you forgotten your resolve? Did you forget?”

He didn’t raise his head.

Sael gently ran her hand over the back of his head. “...No more. I can’t take anymore. There’s too much blood, no escaping it. They no longer see us, we’re but pawns in their game. Fodder for their petty war. She spoke out, they cut her down. How could they do that to the only one who truly loved us? Our Mythal is dead, and no one will cry when we are all devoured by these power hunting mongers…”

Solas’s finger squeezed tight, his body tensing up. “I had forgotten that prayer. My last one.”

“And the first one I heard.” Sael smiled as he looked up just enough to see her face. “I heard so many in those days, but your heart bleed into that one desperate plea.”

“...”

“Oh, Wolf, the first step in repenting for mistakes is seeing it and then do something about it.” Sael lifted his chin. “Now tell me, Dread Wolf, do you see what must be done?”

Something twisted in Solas’s chest. A burning knot that squeezed his heart. There was an intense determination in Sael’s eyes. The look of a soul that would march Fade and bend every aspect of it to her whim. A look he seen in his reflection in his younger days. He grabbed the sides of her face and roughly kissed the bridge of her nose. Solas sat back. “With the spirit of the Deep Roads, if that is truly what you are, at my side… there isn’t a force in Thedas that can stop us.”

Sael chuckled, her hands sliding into his. “What do you mean by that?”

“Limiting you to the Deep Roads, it’s beginning to feel like only a piece of a bigger picture.” Solas smiled warmly at the spirit. “I can’t wait to see you flourish.” He saw a change in her expression. “What?” He followed her gaze to the sole window. An elf from the kitchen gasped and ducked out of sight.

“Come in.” Sael called, standing to open the door and let the sheepish looking elf inside.

Solas stood, resuming his cold demeanor. “It seems we had an uninvited audience.”

The elf woman lowered herself to grovel on her knees. “I know a lie won’t serve me here.” Her voice quivered. “I beg your forgiveness my Gods.”

Solas sighed heavily, turning his back to the elf. He loathed his name having been raised to a deity. Sael patted his shoulder and went down to the elf’s level. “Stand up. Elves have no reason to grovel. Your ancestors didn’t, nor should you.”

“He called you...The spirit of the Deep Roads, I-I am so sorry I was only curious…” She continued to tremble. Sael and Solas traded silent looks. She took a breath and exhaled slowly. The woman didn't try to pull away. “If you’re going to kill me, please tell my family I love them.”

Sael squeezed her hands. “Your name, please.”

“Lily. My former master erased my family’s last name.”

“Lily, we aren’t going to kill you. It…” Sael let relief wash over the elf. “Your people have suffered enough undue death. But you must promise me something, on your life you must swear.”

“Anything, miss!”

Sael leveled a serious look on Lily. “You know too much now, but we could use you. We need your help.”

“How am I to be useful to a god and a spirit?” Lily’s face paled. “I’m just a kitchen maid, not even a good one.” 

Solas turned back, “You can start with dropping the ‘god’ and ‘spirit’ parts.”

“Yes, my lords.” Lily nodded, folding her hands in front of her. 

“You can listen where I can’t. Whisper where I need you to.” Sael put herself between Lily and the door. “This is a chess game for the world, I need a queenside castle to help bring Thedas back from the brink.”

Colored returned in abundance to Lily’s face. “To serve two such as yourselves, there would be no higher honor. Yes, I want to be of help however you need me.”

“You’re alone in this, Lily.” Solas’s face remained empty. “Not a breath to anyone but the Herald and myself.”

“Never a word save for the Herald and Master Solas.” Lily nodded. “Just two more elves of the Inquisition.”

“That’a girl.” Sael smiled and sent Lily from the cabin to head back to the kitchen with a bounce in her step.

“This is dangerous.” Solas pointed out the obvious.

Sael relaxed a bit. “Yes, but I’m not ready to take an innocent life just yet. If the Dalish and the city elves are going to be raised to their past glories, we ought to give them a chance to prove they’re worthy of it.”

“And if not?”

“Goals don’t change, merely the method.” Sael chuckled. “You know, I can’t say this is how I hoped this talk would go.”

“What were you expecting.”

“Hoping.” She corrected. “To be honest, some unbridled, furniture breaking...passion.” Sael watched Lily vanish into the trees.

Solas chuckled this time. “You don’t say, as if I didn’t notice those starved looks when I’m busy.” His hand slipped up the back of her neck, gently wrapping his fingers around her hair and partly pulling her head back. “I would be a poor master of the Fade if I gave a spirit exactly what they wanted when they wanted it.”

Sael’s face burned red. “Ohh, the Dread Wolf take you.” She grinned darkly.

“Melana, ma elgar.” Solas leaned over to whisper a breath against her ear. He steadied her and started for the door. “I believe we have strayed beyond Seeker Cassandra’s limit of patience. Shall we return?”

“After I bury myself in snow.” Sael joked following after him. Her legs feeling very much like poorly cooked pudding.

The war room meeting Sael had promised Cassandra stood purely on ceremony. The advisors and Seeker were brought up to date with first hand accounts of the events in The Storm Coast. The famed Hero of Ferelden was brought in to give an account on the Wardens. There was no new information. Simply put, the Wardens had vanished to Maker knows where and Arthur had come in search of the Inquisition for answers regarding a secretive Warden matter. Leliana vouched for her old friend before they excused themselves to catch up over the past years. The long list of tasks to accomplish were reviewed again. Sael added to it with the message from Cremisius regarding the Bull’s Chargers. None of the advisors believed it was a wise choice to get into business with a Qunari, highly praised mercenary band or not. Sael only pointed out the lack of allies the fledgling Inquisition had. Horses and call to travel were sent out to make way for the Storm Coast.

Sael sat on the back of her horse. Another disgruntled looking mare. Thankfully this one’s temperament was more tolerant than Sael’s first nag. That old horse likely was left with Dennet’s farm before he and his horses made their way to Haven. Rain soaked through scraps of leather armor and thick tunic and pants. As a spirit, Sael didn’t experience cold like the others, but found it no less annoying. At the crest of a hill, there could be seen a group of Venatori fighting another group. The Inquisition came down the hill as fast as the horses would allow. Hooves struck the beach just as the last Venatori was cleaved nearly in half by a large Qunari with a giant axe. 

Sael dismounted first, followed by the others to approach the Qunari. She raised a hand in greeting. The Qunari nodded in response and called to his men. “Chargers, stand down!” He walked over to the only familiar member Sael saw. “Krem, how’d we do?”

“Five or six wounded, Chief. No dead.” Krem proudly answered back.

“That’s what I like to hear. Let the throatcutters finish up here. Then break out the casks.” Krem nodded and left the Qunari to Sael. “So you’re with the Inquisition, huh?” He looked over her shoulder to see the rest of the group before looking back at Sael. “Glad you could make it. Come on, have a seat. Drinks are coming.”

Sael walked with him. “You have to be Iron Bull. I heard you’re looking for work”

“I am, but not before my drink.” Iron Bull took a seat on a large dead tree fallen over on the beach. Bleached white by the salt of the Waking Sea. Krem approached again. Bull gestured to him. “I assume you remember Cremisius Alassi, my lieutenant. He came back with high praise of you specifically.”

Krem and Sael traded smiles. “Good to see you again. Throatcutters are done, chief.”

“Already? Have them check again. I don’t want any of those Tevinter bastards getting away.” Iron Bull chuckled. “No offense, Krem.”

The former Tevinter soldier shrugged. “None taken. Least a bastard knows who his mother is.” Krem smirked past Iron Bull. “Puts him one up on you Qunari, right?”

Iron Bull’s eyes rolled. He returned his attention on Sael. “So... you’ve seen us fight. We’re expensive, but worth it… and I’m sure the Inquisition can afford us.”

“The Charger’s seem like an excellent company.” Sael grinned.

“Herald…” Cassandra’s tone was caution.

Sael shot up a hand. “One lone Qunari isn’t the Qun invading.”

“You’re not just getting the boys. You’re getting me.” Iron Bull pushed. “You need a frontline bodyguard. I’m your man.” He stood up, Sael keeping close as he went a few paces down the beach. “Whatever it is - demons, dragons? The bigger the better.”

“I fail to see the ‘but’ in the speech, but I hear one.” Sael waited.

Iron Bull grinned. “Well there is one other thing. Might be useful, might piss you off. Ever hear of the Ben-Hassrath?”

Varric, Cassandra and Solas all tensed behind Sael. Both herself and Iron Bull noticed. “I know them, more so in infamy rather than firsthand. Secret police in basic practice.”

“They’re spies, more so.” Iron Bull took a moment for dramatic pause and gauge the groups reaction. “Oh well, we’re spies. The Ben-Hassrath are concerned about the Breach. Magic out of control like that can cause trouble everywhere. I’ve been ordered to join the Inquisition, get close to the people in charge, and send reports on what’s happening.” He could see the three behind Sael growing more tense with every word. Sael stayed perfectly calm and still in front of him. “But I also get reports from Ben-Hassrath agents all over Orlais. You sign me on, and I’ll share those reports with you.”

“Hired.”

“SAEL!” Cassandra nearly lunged for Sael as she shrieked. Varric and Solas catching her from her own reaction. “Have you lost your mind?”

Sael turned. “Oh by the...Cassandra, you are not my mother!”

Cassandra shook the men from her shoulders. “And this is not a game! The world is at stake and you are letting an obvious spy into our midst!”

“You want to play that card, fair enough.” Sael closed the distance between them. “We have only friends and gracious volunteers to our name. Reputation being the only proper propaganda to spread the Inquisitions word through Thedas.” Holding up her marked hand to Cassandra’s face. “A spooky glowing hand that does magic tricks on rifts. So where in all of that do you think we can suddenly bolster our ranks?”

Cassandra didn’t answer.

“Varric, Solas, you both have had dealings with the Qun.” Sael looked to the men.

“I was there when the Qun invaded Kirkwall, they don’t half-ass anything, and if they mean to truly kill you, they don’t tell you about it.” Varric gave a mixed review.

Solas’s eyes were warning. “If you believe you can work with him, then I won’t argue.”

“Iron Bull,” Sael turned back. “Why tell me you’re Ben-Hassrath? Not common behavior for spies.”

The Qunari shrugged. “I figured you’d find out sooner or later. It was best you hear it from me first.”

Sael clapped her hands together, smile beaming on her face. “Congratulations, you’re about to be one of my new best friends. Safety’s sake, Leliana will have to see the reports you send back.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.” Iron Bull shook Sael’s hand. He called out. “Krem, tell the men to finish drinking on the road. The Chargers just got hired.”

“What about the casks, chief?” Krem kicked a splintered lid. “We just opened them, with axes.”

Iron Bull chuckled, a hand on his hip. “Well find a way to seal them. You’re Tevinter, right? Try blood magic.” He walked backward, “We’ll see you back at Haven.”

Varric took Iron Bull’s place in front of Sael. “Last time I remember talking to a Qunari this close, Hawke was running around pillars like a chicken with its head cut off.”

Sael nodded. “I couldn’t be more excited to be making friends.”

“Maker, help you because if that Qunari turns on you I won’t have enough bolts to cover your ass.”

“Thank, Varric.” She smiled, “But when it comes to my ass, I believe wolf’s fur will cover just fine.” Cassandra barely dodged the splash back of Solas sputtering mid-drink from his canteen. He excused himself between coughs.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Labor Day Weekend here. So I won't have an update till at least next Tuesday or Wednesday. Enjoy the holiday and this new chapter. Keep sending comments. I absolutely love hearing what readers think!

Iron Bull walked alongside the Inquisition escort around Sael and her companions. He kept his company at a distance, though close enough to be of use. He took the opportunity to look over each member of Sael’s inner circle. Each of them had telltale signs that gave parts of themselves away.

Solas rode with little direction for his horse. The creature adjusted on it’s own, straying from the escort was corrected with subtle taps and precise prodes back into line. His face said little more than a man who didn’t harbor a great deal of interest in the world around him. The lack of scars Iron Bull typically saw on most any mages suggested that the elf made very, very few mistakes.

There was a woman fuming coldly in the saddle, flanking Sael on the right, across from Solas. Cassandra, the one who openly and vehemently objected to him having been hired. Her disgust and aggravation still plastered on her face. A warrior of action. Cautious and likely a difficulty in letting others take charge from her, or without her. He recalled Sael calling her ‘mom’, a well intended protector.

Last of the companions was a dwarf man, Varric Tethras. Famed author in Thedas, and a reported smuggler and scoundrel. There were nearly as many stories surrounding his background as there were that were penned by the dwarf himself. Varric rode a stout pony, a journal in hand and writing. He didn’t seem to be making mistakes or spilling with the dips and rises in the terrain. He was far more aware of the world around him than he would let people know.

At the front, and the one Krem met first, Sael. She moved against the horse as it walked on, not an experienced rider. A rare problem in Thedas. She grumbled under her breath. Iron Bull struggled to read her lips as she was frequently changing language between Common, Dwarvish, and elvish, both in ancient and modern. Everything else between was chalked up to gibberish. When she talked to the others, it was more often than not Varric or Solas. A clear bond, both old. There was little else he could discern from her without her closer. 

Camp was made only one night. The company and escort were spurred into a forced march. An eagerness from the Inquisition to return to Haven. Iron Bull could only wonder exactly how much they had spent in the saddle. Iron Bull’s company went about their camping routine, set up in a flash. The Inquisition still took some time to sort itself out. Cassandra trying to wrangle soldiers into chores and snapping when too many questions came at her. Sael had been finishing her tent when Cassandra started losing a grip on the task. The Herald came over and quickly pulled the confusion loose and sent soldiers on their jobs. Cassandra was assured silently and Sael returned to her tent. Iron Bull noticed that they shared tents. Sael sharing with the other elf, leaving the Seeker and Author to share. It clearly wasn’t a unanimous decision as Cassandra loudly complained on her way into the tent.

It wasn’t until midday the following day when the Inquisition and Chargers arrived in Haven. Iron Bull began taking notes. Already problems were forming. The mountain pass wasn’t the only entrance into Haven, there was another a couple miles away. The first gate they crossed under had no guards posted and looked to be almost falling apart. The stretch of road leading directly into Haven wasn’t patrolled, and it had the perfect vantage point for anyone coming up the hill to ambush. He sighed deeply, trying and failing to not shake his head. 

At the crest of the hill brought a glaring problem to his attention. The Inquisition forces, the bulk of them, were training right out in the open. A frozen lake directly next to them. Ice looked flawless, thick and a deep dark shade of blue in the scattered rays of sunlight. An army, knowing better, could walk across that lake. The necks of two trebuchets peaked over the wooden stake walls. At least those were fairly well spaced apart. He looked back to soldiers, it didn’t take more than a fe seconds before he recognized several Templar tactics and practices. For all the faults, there was potential.

Iron Bull stake claim on a tent being used as extra storage for the horsemaster. It was directly next to the last defensible gate in Haven and a great vantage point to watch the soldiers train. He left Krem to watch his new tent and headed to find out what was happening inside the gate. He stopped short of trampling a red haired Orlaisian man with bolts of fabric in arm.

“Maker, I am sorry I didn’t see yo-” His jaw dropped under the peacock mask. “Andraste’s garter, you’re a Qunari!” He scrambled to stand, fabric forgotten in the dirt. “I am blessed! To be in the presence of a Qunari!” He looked over Iron Bull’s two colored striped pants, heavy belt and shoulder piece. “You’re a travesty! Disgrâce, cela ne va pas du tout, monsieur!”

“Excuse me?” Iron Bull growled.

“Voyons voir!” Dupont exclaimed, diving for Iron Bull’s pants. He grabbed the seams and pulled back to see the shape of the Qunari’s leg. “Magnifique! These rags do you no justice! Come, we must fix! The Muse has spoken!” He tried to pull Iron Bull to his cabin.

“What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” Iron Bull yanked his arm free.

“Monsieur,” Curio folded his arms over his chest. “I have come to this shabby...chic little hovel in order to breath life into the dead rags the collective here call clothing. You stand out so you must go first.”

Iron Bull crossed his arms as well. “I don’t need a change of clothes. These work.”

“I am Curio Dupont and I refuse to see such a creature as yourself in… potato sack for pants and some flimsy scrap of a toddlers attempt at leather work. No! I will make you a titan of fashion to be feared and awed at! Even by those beneath your boot!”

The name rang several bells in Iron Bull’s head. Mainly Orlaisian bells of women he spent the night with bragging about their latest pieces from Dupont. He smirked. “Alright, Dupont. Let’s see if fashion can top practicality.” He followed the human man into a cabin unsure what to expect.

“Dupont, are you almost done? I can’t feel my arms.” Iron Bull asked, a hand creeping toward his blindfold. His hand was immediately smacked by a long slender piece of wood.

“Arrête ça!” Dupont let the yardstick fall to the floor. “Monsieur, how can I finish if you insist on asking if I am done? Perfection doesn’t finish when you want, you are done when the muse says you are done.”

“Has anyone ever called you a ‘Tamassaran’ before?” Iron Bull chuckled, remembering a Tamassaran who had caught him trying on an Antaam-Saar armor. His horns got tangled and she lectured him the entire time spent undoing them all.

“No.” Curio pulled another pin with a rune carved on its head from his mouth. Spearing it through the fabric sealed it as if it had been woven that way. Metal melded as he worked fire over it. “There, now mon taureau, you will see it when I have finished the final touches and the blacksmith has his grubby paws on it.” Dupont pulled the armor off Iron Bull, saving the blindfold for last. He continued talking to himself under his breath as he shoved the mercenary captain out the door.

The night sky had taken the sky and Iron Bull knew Krem wasn’t likely going to believe his reason for being so late getting back. After an exhaustive week, he was going to be grateful for a bed of rocks to sleep on even if it was all there was.

He groaned, Sael was once again busy. Arthur Cousland was back to waiting on her. He considered Haven and wonder if there was anything else to do in the meantime. He remembered that there was another Warden in the Inquisition. Making his way down through Haven, he found Blackwall settled in by the forge. Arthur cleared his throat behind the other Warden. He raised an eyebrow when Blackwall jumped only to pale a bit at the sight of Arthur.

“A fellow Warden.” Arthur greeted, taking a seat on the cobblestone wall beside them.

“Yes.” Blackwall turned to look at the Breach. “Maker, look at it. So much easier to ignore when it's far away.” He turned to face Arthur. “And for the Herald to just walk out of it. To be that close.”

“Surviving is only part of it.” Arthur nodded, looking at the Breach with an anxious glare. “Who knows what would have become of her without Inquisition forces.”

Blackwall laughed, first time he smiled in Arthur’s presence. “The soldiers? That isn’t what I heard. I have to admit, I thought she’d be…”

“Human?”

“...Yes.”

Arthur clicked his tongue. “A problem with elves?”

Blackwall’s shoulders slumped, “No, of course not. Maker’s balls, I don’t mean to offend. It’s what you do, and how you do it, that’s important.”

“Truer words so rarely spoken. And with such fumbling grace.” Arthur smirked, teasing Blackwall.

“I have one question.” Blackwall stared into the snow piled up at the base of the shack’s wall. “Where do you fit into all of this?”

Arthur sat quietly for a moment, thinking about his answer. “As a Warden, it’s our job to defend against the Blights. To fight against Darkspawn and kill Archdemons. I came in search of answers and everyone but the Inquisition seemed too busy with the Divine’s death to answer. Let alone deal with the hole in the sky. You?”

“I’ll be satisfied so long as we find the bastards that killed the Divine.” Blackwall gritted his teeth. “They owe us some answers.”

“I see.” Arthur leaned back. “You know, I can remember the last time I saw you. Has it really been so long I don’t recognize you anymore?”

Blackwall tensed up again. “Warden’s life keeps us all busy. It must have been longer than I thought.”

“True, I suppose.” Arthur stood, turning to leave before turning back. “I mean it would if there was another Archdemon running around, but something about the Calling...It just doesn’t feel right. I’ve been face to face with one, killed it. And this doesn’t just sit right. How about you? Why haven’t you followed the Calling? All the Wardens were hearing it.”

Blackwall looked as if he was going to collapse in on himself. “It didn’t...feel urgent.”

“Right.” Arthur paused, gaze fixed on Blackwall. “I best find the Herald. I wanted to catch up with her.”

“...”

Blackwall said nothing as Arthur excused himself in search of Sael. His gut twisted, bucking against his spine. He knew enough about Wardens to pass with those not in the order. Now he was trapped with a full fledged Grey Warden. Not just one of the soldiers and mages, the Hero of Ferelden himself. He couldn’t abandon the Inquinistion now, not after the show of eagerness he made to the Herald. Running would only bring his sins to light faster. Blackwall considered his days numbered.

Amladaris felt his sanctum swell with energy. He had a visitor, against his orders. Turning to find himself face to face with a flawless bronze face with a devious smirk. Scheming maroon eyes searched Amladaris’s face for what seemed like ages crammed in a matter of seconds. All the confidence Amladaris paraded around his servants and subordinates drained away in a flash.

“Little Amladaris,” Tevinter’s voice acted like a python squeezing around the Amladaris’s chest. “I see you have some of my denizen’s coming to aid you. They wouldn’t be going to waste would they now?”

Amladaris swallowed his horror and stilled himself in the presence of the presiding spirit of Tevinter. “A believer and a desperate man. No one truly important.”

“That is for myself to determine isn’t it?” Tevinter pulled his face back to stand at his full height. The squirming mass of miniature humanoids he stood on accounted for as an extension of his limbs. “Regardless, I came to insure things are moving smoothly. Dumat and myself would be so distraught if the rise of my Imperium were to falter further due to another's self inflated pride.”

He couldn’t hide the flinch from cringing. “The Imperium will rise again to it’s rightful place in Thedas.”

“It will, I have no doubt about that.” Tevinter dug the long needle like point of a claw between two perfect teeth. “I’m curious, where do you see yourself in this coming regime?”

“...”

“You always were a clever one.” Tevinter cooed as he glided backward on the squirming mass of humanoids into the shadows.

Amladaris waited till he felt the pressure in the room dissipated. “Servant!” He shouted, glaring furiously at the door till someone came rushing in. “Fetch me a scrying bowl. I must speak with Alexius.”

The party set out for Redcliffe. Sael, Solas, Varric and Iron Bull. The Qunari spy had been the only change Sael made to the travel arrangements. He was more than happy to accompany the Herald of Andraste and her companions. Cassandra on the other hand was a silent hurricane of fury. Sael, backed by Leliana, felt that things might go smoother with the mages if there wasn’t public arguments between members of the Inquisition. The other members, including Iron Bull remained quiet. The road to Redcliffe, through the Hinterlands was long and winding.

“So I heard you pegged Cullen for a former Templar just by watching the soldiers.” Sael reigned her horse to walk closer to Iron Bull.

“He didn’t have to.” Iron Bull wore a pleased smile. “It may not have been Templar shields, but it’s a Templar hold.” He noticed the other two listening as well. “He angles the shield just a bit down. Helps direct fire or acid away, so it doesn’t splash right in your face.” He sat a bit higher in the saddle. “Qunari learn the same thing when we train to fight Tevinter mages. Your Templar is doing good work.”

“I suppose he is.” Sael chuckled. “It seems like the only thing not going to shit and back lately.”

Iron Bull shook his head. His horns catching a low hanging branch. “The problem with the Inquisition isn’t at the front line. Its at the top.”

“Considering I’ve been collared into that tier,” Sael frowned a bit. “And no way to make that ominous to boot.”

“If anyone else had that mark of yours, Shortcut.” Varric called from behind her. “I wouldn’t be labling that claim as duffaloshit.”

Iron Bull raised an eyebrow at Sael. “...’Shortcut’?”

Sael waved it off. “Varric rarely ever calls people by their names. A moniker given in appreciation. Mine is a long story. Longer than this road.” She looked ahead, still no gate in sight.

Varric smirked and winked at Iron Bull. “I’m sure it’ll be interesting.” He let his attention fall back on Sael. “The Inquisition has no leader. No Inquisitor.”

“I’m already sent on every errand and diplomatic mission.” Sael smiled, facing ahead. “I don’t see why not take the title with the job I’m doing already.”

“. . .” Iron Bull was quiet for a long moment. “Huh...why you?”

The mark was held up for the group to see. “Aside this little gift? No one else seems to be after the job. Might as well take it.”

“Got a lot of grit there for a road.” Varric chuckled, looking through his notes.

Sael and Solas both shot a scathing glare at the dwarf. Iron Bull immediately committed Varric’s comments to memory and made a mental note to watch Sael and Solas a bit closer. There was something those three kept secret. “For a moment there…” Iron Bull pulled Sael’s attention back to him “you sounded like a qunari.” He didn’t turn when he saw Solas flinch at the edge of his peripheral vision.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Sael smirked. A head the large arched stone gate over the road to Redcliffe came into view. It was the first defense and alarm for the town. “And I’ll have to pick this up later.” She pointed out the gate. “Redcliffe is ahead, we’re in the final stretch. It’s go time.”

Varric sighed loudly in relief. “It’s about time. I thought I was going to release another book before we got here.”

The road was flanked by the Hinterland’s notorious crumbling outdoor pony walls. Where she had expected traveling mages, vendors and Redcliffe residents to be bustling back and forth, emptiness and wildlife took over. As they neared the town proper, the group noticed the portcullis was lowered and a rift loomed just outside it. Translucent circles of magic dotted the area surrounding it. Sael and the companions dismounted in a hurry to inspect the rift.

Nothing strange about the rift immediately became apparent. It wasn’t till Iron Bull was backed into the strange circle of magic by a demon did the disturbing nature come to light. The three others watched in confusion as Iron Bull shredded the lesser shade at the edge of the circle in less than a second. The magic he stood in had sped his actions up to an unnatural speed. Iron Bull was finished and out of the circle before the others could close their mouths. Demons were easily dispatched and the rift was sealed with the mark as before.

“What...was that?” Iron Bull glared at the ground where the circle he crossed had been.

“Temporal distortions.” Solas named the phenomenon with an ominous tone.

Varric shook his head. “If it's magic and Chuckles doesn’t like it, we’re in trouble.”

“To say the least.” Sael let the cobblestone bracers break apart. “Stay alert, something is very wrong here.”

“Understatement of the age, Shortcut.”

A guard came scrambling up the road, working praise to the Herald of Andraste between breaths. The portcullis was raised, letting Inquisition and guards back into Redcliffe. Inside, Sael was met by one of Leliana’s scouts, a young and confused looking man. Not a common emotion Leliana’s spies were often found in.

He saluted, fist over heart. “We spread word the Inquisition was coming, but you should know that no one here was expecting us.”

The group traded looks. The spies confusion was well earned. Sael turned back to him. “No one, not even Grand Enchanter Fiona?”

“If she was, she hasn’t told anyone.” He pointed up the main street. “We’ve arranged use of the tavern for the negotiations.”

“Agents of the Inquisition, my apologies” A rail thinned elf man came jogging up. “Magister Alexius is in charge now, but hasn’t arrived yet. He’s expected shortly.” He looked all the parts sincerely apologetic and worried. “You can speak with the former Grand Enchanter in the meantime.” He stepped aside to guide the group to Fiona.

Sael slowed to walk in the center of the three males. “How fast can a Magister travel?”

“Not that fast.” Iron Bull growled under his breath to match Sael’s whisper.

Varric nodded, a grim look on his face. Solas was the only one to remain impassive. “Not by any normal means, or by known magic for that matter.” He added to the gathering distrust.

The once powerful seat of trade between dwarven cities, it had now fallen on hard times. The events of the Fifth Blight had brought exploded interest in the town. Though, after the initial craze of sudden popularity, it was struggling to keep growing. With the Breach looming over the lands of Thedas, Redcliffe was no different in worry. The only thing stronger than the tension was the constant aroma of fish and their vendors. The town was crowded with all varying types of nature. Tree’s bark taking their first holds of the walls of homes. Ferns and grass sprouting a top roofs. There was never a finer testament to the town’s age than natures balance with it.

Citizens of Redcliffe and mages alike watched the Inquisition forces follow the elf mage toward the tavern. Murmurs and conjecture swarmed in the Sael’s wake. She kept her attention forward as best she could. The confused and enraptured stares of human and elf alike were heavy to walk through. She squared her shoulders and swallowed her anxiety. Every house they passed shouted pleas for help in their direction. Sael could only acknowledge and give out vague promises to come back to hear details. She counted what blessing she had to her name when the mage leading them finally pointed out the Gull and Lantern tavern, at almost the furthest reaches of Redcliffe.

Inside was a basic tavern. Nothing fancy beyond a hanging shield bearing the crest of Redcliffe. It had been empty. No tenants coming and going from rentable rooms. No overnight drunks sleeping off their drink. Not even the barkeep eyeing tumblers in daylight seeping through the thin planks crossing the windows. Empty save for a woman Sael had met at the gates of Val Royeaux, Grand Enchanter Fiona. The same look of worry on her face, but for this meeting there was a strong addition of confusion there.

“Welcome, Agents of the Inquisition.” Fiona bowed her head slightly. “What has brought you to Redcliffe?”

Sael and the others checked each others faces looking for answers. Sael turned back to Fiona. “It hasn’t been that long since Val Royeaux. You invited us here.”

Fiona shook her head. The former Grey Warden looked to her companion before back to Sael. “You must be mistaken. I haven’t been to Val Royeaux since before the Conclave.”

“There is no mistake.” Sael curbed her frustration. “After the Templars left Val Royeaux, you caught us at the gate. Varric and Solas were there as well.”

Solas took a step forward. “I believe I asked you if it was safe for you to be in the port city at the time.”

“The Templars left Val Royeaux? Where did they go?” Fiona shifted nervously on her feet. “That sounds. . . Why does that sounds so strange?”

Iron Bull cleared his throat slightly, leaning forward to speak at Sael’s ear. “Your mage is telling the truth. She’s genuinely surprised.” Sael nodded in understanding.

“Whoever…” Fiona’s gaze fell to the floor. “Or whatever brought you here, the situation has changed. The Free Mages have already...pledged themselves to the service of the Tevinter Imperium.”

Iron Bull growled loudly. “This. This right here is why you can’t trust mages.”

Sael fixed an eye on him over her shoulder. “You’re standing next to two of them.” She quietly reminded him.

Solas did absolutely nothing to hide the disappointment on his face. Varric shook his head, pawing the back of his neck. “I’m trying to think of something you could have done worse, and I’m coming up with nothing.”

Fiona’s face twisted with shame. “As one indentured to a Magister, I no longer have the authority to negotiate with you.”

“I’ve seen food change hands slower in the alienages than this.” Sael grumbled. She sighed, a palm rubbing circles against a temple. “Who in the wide world of fuckery is in charge now? And don’t tell me they’re in the Western Approach.”

The tavern door clattered shut, pulling everyone’s attention on the newcomer. A single man in stylish Tevinter Mage robes and hood. A clawed gauntlet and accenting pieces of scalemail. “Welcome, my friends. I apologize for not greeting you earlier.”

“Agents of the Inquisition, allow me to introduce Magister Gereon Alexius.” Fiona announced. The tension in the room went from apprehension to anger.

“The southern mages are under my command. And you are the survivor, yes?” Alexius stood in front of Sael. “The one from the Fade? Interesting.”

Sael leveled a icy glare at Alexius. “I hardly think ‘friend’ is the right word, considering we don’t even have a paragraph of conversation between us.”

“Something I look forward to changing.”

“Quite.” Sael remained unchanged. “Where is the Arl? Or his men for that matter?”

“The Arl left. There were tensions growing. I didn’t want an incident.”

“So the Arl, King Alistair, lets a magister walk in and he goes...out? For a walk down the coastline with three hundred...friends?”

Alexius eyes drifted away from Sael’s. “Not in that exact sense, but yes.”

“What have you roped Fiona and her mages into?” Sael crossed her arms behind her back to hide the clenching fist. “She said she was indentured.”

“Our southern brethren have no legal status in the Imperium.” Alexius tried to downplay the implications with a light tone. “As they were not born citizens of Tevinter, they must work for a period of ten years before gaining full rights. As their protector, I will oversee their work for the Imperium.”

Sael’s body instinctual flinched forward. Unchecked she would have lunged at the Magister and strangled the life out of him. “You lost me as to when this one sided and purely fine print contract even happened.”

“When the Conclave was destroyed. These poor souls faced the brutality of the Templars, who rushed to attack them.” He turned to look at Fiona with a caring smile. “It could only be through divine providence that I arrived when I did.”

Fiona’s brow furrowed. “It was certainly… very timely.”

“I wouldn’t inflate his ego to call him ‘Divine providence’. Trust me, I have a word or two for him.” Sael let the statement remain vague. Yet, pointed enough to unease the Magister. Iron Bull was unintentionally was with Alexius in regards to the comment. “I’m here to collect mages to close the Breach. I have no more time to waste on pointless banter.” Sael moved towards the nearest table.

“A woman of act!” Alexius praised, following after her. “Felix, would you send for a scribe, please?” He gestured toward a younger looking man resembling Alexius. “Pardon my manners. My son Felix, friends.” The man bowed, an arm across his front and the other his back. He left without a word. Alexius adjusted to face Sael. “I’m not surprised you’re here. Containing the Breach in not a feat many could even attempt. There is no telling how many mages would be needed for such an endeavor. Ambitious indeed.”

“That is a lot of words, and I’m not hearing numbers.” Sael shot down the Magister’s friendliness. “I want them all.”

Alexius sat found, anger flickering behind his eyes. “There will have to be-”

A staggering Felix shuffled towards them. Sael knew the illness, the man practically stank of it. She jumped from her chair and caught him mid-fall. Felix shook his head. “My Lady, I am so sorry. Please, forgive me.”

Something changed in Sael’s hand. She didn’t dare look just yet. She and Iron Bull helped Felix to stand. His father hustling over to worry at his side. “It’s alright. No harm done.” She assured quietly, there was absolutely no reason she could give herself to be cruel off the bat to the man.

“...Felix. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, Father.”

“Come, I’ll get your powders.” Alexius’s focus completely abandoned the mages for a moment. “Please, excuse me, friends. We will have to continue this another time.” The Magister helped usher his son away. Without so much as a glance, “Fiona, I require your assistance back at the castle.

Sael and the other watched as Felix was led out. Varric muttered under his breath. “...Blight.”

Alexius turned to address the Inquisition one last time. “I will send word to the Inquisition. We shall conclude this business at a later date.”

Sael waited till the door thudded shut again. Turning to face her companions, she opened her hand. A yellowed folded piece of parchment sat squarely on her palm. “Come to the Chantry. You are in danger.”

“Risky.” Iron Bull noted. “It could have only been that Felix guy.”

“Could be a trap.” Sael shredded the note, holding the scrapes into a nearby torch and bowl. “No doubt, we’ll come out of it alive. I just wonder who’s crazy enough to trap themselves in with us?”

Solas crack a smirk in the corner of his mouth. “Only one way to find out.”

“Look at you, Chuckles.” Varric batted the elf mages ribs. “Feeling adventurous today.”

“Have to support your team.” Iron Bull defended. His laugh a well practiced hearty one. His mind was elsewhere. Sael’s comment about having words with someone about ‘divine providence’. There were so many ways to take that and he didn’t know this elf woman well enough to venture a solid guess yet. He needed more information, that meant forming a plan to have it come to him. Either through his professional training, or natural. He was intent on it.


	16. Chapter 16

“Good! You’re finally here! Now help me close this, will you?”

The Chantry was found in the deepest reach of Redcliffe. The building was suspected to house a trap, a rift was a rather unexpected twist. The bigger surprise was the man bashing a shade across the face with the head of a staff. Sael raised an eyebrow, he had greeted her like an old friend asking for help. Seeing no issue with the request, Sael and the others rushed into the fray.

Temporal distortions dotted the Chantry’s interior. One caught Iron Bull as he charged at a lesser shade between the pews. The qunari warrior was slowed dramatically. He counted his fortunes that the minor demon was in the same fix. Solas and the new mage ran support with offense fire and ice catching demons that were foolish enough to attempt a lethal strike at an opening. The walls and floor of the Chantry church unwilling relinquished its stones to Sael’s summons. One large chuck of masonry crushed the head and torso of an eager envy demon. It wasn’t long before the rift was being closed. Sael bit her lip, the pain of connecting to them to her mark hadn’t lessened in all the rifts they had closed already. It still felt like jagged glass and lava being dragged up beneath her skin. She wondered for a moment if the mark and this pain was worse than it should have been since she was a spirit masquerading as a living being. With the rift closed, the five gathered together near the church’s altar.

The man was young. Strikingly handsome with jet black hair and a sleek and equally black handlebar mustache. A patch below is lower lip to accent the mustache. Eyes so dark the pupil and iris were indistinguishable from each other. He turned about in place several times, looking at each member of the Inquisition for a long moment before settling on Sael.

“Fascinating.” His smirk traveling down her face to her glowing hand. “How does it work, exactly?”

No one answered him.

“You don’t even know, do you?” He continued on. “You just wiggle your fingers, and boom! Rift closes.”

Sael shifted her weight to one leg, the other pushed slightly forward. “Who are you?” She was uncomfortable not knowing a person. Especially when it came to anyone that seemed any level above what she deemed standard.

“Ah! Getting ahead of myself again, I see.” He bowed forward a bit, smirk unmoved. “Dorian of House Pavus, most recently of Minrathous. How do you do?”

Iron Bull growled, arms crossing over his chest. “Watch yourself.” He eyed Dorian darkly. “The pretty ones are always the worst.” Dorian winked at him, earning him another deep growl. Solas and Varric were quiet, but no less disapproving than Iron Bull. 

“Suspicious friends you have here.”

Sael moved to take a seat at the end of a nearby pew. “I can’t say I blame them. A note shoved in my hand by a magister’s son. A magister who by all accounts shouldn’t be here. And now.” She gestured to the ceiling space previously occupied by the now gone rift. “We walk into a Chantry to find demons, a rift, time being messed with and a man beating them with a staff. Suspicious is generous.”

“Magister Alexius was once my mentor, so my assistance should be valuable.” Dorian wasn’t phased by Sael calling out the obvious. “As I am sure you can imagine.”

“After meeting the magister, I can’t say that claim makes you endearing to me at the moment.” Sael took a turn to scowl. “Speaking of, where is Felix. It was his note, shouldn’t he be here?”

Dorian nodded, glancing at either side of the Chantry’s main hall. “I’m sure he’s on his way. He was to give you the note, then meet us here after ditching his father.”

“No small task, given Alexius’ reaction.” Solas briefly cut in.

The Tevinter mage chuckled. “A mother hen is often difficult to escape.”

“So you were the one who sent the note, not Felix.” Sael raised a leg to drape over the other.

“I am.” Dorian’s face finally lost it’s grin. “Someone had to warn you, after all.”

“This place is plastered with red flags everywhere.” Varric sat in a pew near himself. Bianca resting against the side. “I can fill a book with things wrong here.”

A collective silence fell in among the five. Dorian grunted. “Let’s start with Alexius claiming the allegiance of the mage rebels out from under you.”

“As if by magic.” Iron Bull grumbled.

Dorian thrust a finger toward Iron Bull. “Which is exactly right. To reach Redcliffe before the Inquisition, Alexius distorted time itself.”

“Oh that’s a brilliant idea!” Varric cried out. “Now I just wish I had some popcorn for how the rest of this is going to play out. It’s undoubtedly going to be a shit show.” He seethed. Enough magic and actions of Templars had gone wrong in Kirkwall to tell him when something was going down hill. Fast.

“Time altering magic.” Solas gripped his staff a bit tighter, an annoyed look cast at the floor. “Many have attempted it. I can’t recall any that had ever been successful. A fool’s campaign at best.”

His audience was slipping from his grasp. Dorian snapped his fingers. “The rift you closed here.” He fixed his attention Sael. “You saw how it twisted time around itself, sped somethings up and slowed others down.” He received a nod. “Soon there will be more like it, and they’ll appear further and further away from Redcliffe. The magic Alexius is using is wildly unstable, and it’s unraveling the world.”

“Sure, sure, as if the Breach wasn’t enough on Roads plate already. World consuming time magic makes for a great first course.”

“And people wonder why the Qun has problems with magic.” Iron Bull grunted, fist clenching beneath folded arms.

Solas shook his head. “Not all magic is something to be feared, but I must agree that this is a gross misuse of talents. You seem to have a rather in depth knowledge about it as it is. Why is that?”

The main hall went silent as they waited for Dorian’s answer. His shoulders slumped. He took a deep breath. “I helped develop this magic.”

Sael, Varric rose to follow Iron Bull and Solas out.

Dorian called out quickly for them to stop. “It’s not like that!” He thanked his luck they stopped in their tracks. “When I was still his apprentice, it was pure theory. Alexius could never get it to work.”

“...” They turned to face Dorian.

“What I don’t understand is why he’s doing it?” An arm crossed his chest to perch the other. He gripped his chin between his thumb and index. “Ripping time to shred just to get a few hundred lackeys?”

“Not a lot is making sense right now and I’m having to take it on ‘faith’ for the moment.” Sael resumed her seat at the pew.

“He didn’t do it for them.” A familiar voice came out of the shadows. Felix stepped into the candle light.

Dorian’s face brightened. “Took you long enough. Is he getting suspicious?”

“No.” Felix tried to smile. It looked exhausting. “But I shouldn’t have played the illness card. I thought he’d be fussing over me all day.” Felix turned to address Sael. “My father has joined a cult. Tevinter supremacist. They call themselves ‘Venatori’. And I can tell you one thing: whatever he’s doing for them is to get to you.”

“Messing with Time and enslave a group of rebel mages to get to me?” Sael glanced at Solas, the two shared a tense expression. A word in private was going to be needed in regards to the Venatori. She took a breath and looked back to Felix. “I’m flattered but the effort doesn’t seem to match the objective. What are we missing?”

“They’re obsessed with you, but I don’t know why. Perhaps because you survived the Temple of Sacred Ashes?”

“You can close the rifts. Maybe there’s a connection?” Dorian added. “Or they see you as a threat.”

Sael groaned. “Dorain, Felix, theories are all well and good. But I would rather some suggestions. This is your guys court jester, not mine.”

Dorian clicked his tongue in annoyance. “You know you’re his target. Expecting the trap is the first step in turning it to our advantage.”

“Our?”

“I can’t stay in Redcliffe.” Dorian looked to the walls. The only barrier between him and the town. “Alexius doesn’t know I’m here and I want to keep it that way for now.” He raised a finger before anyone could make any assumptions. “But… whenever you are ready to deal with him, I want to be there. I’ll be in touch.”

“Don’t wander far.” Sael answered, standing to head back to Haven.

Dorian smirked. He waved to Felix, walking backward. “And Felix? Try not to get yourself killed.”

Felix shrugged, shaking his head while smiling. “There are worse things than dying, Dorian.” He and Dorian both left from opposite sides of the Chantry. Sael and her companions took the front doors. Inquisition forces leaving would be enough of a distraction for Felix and Dorian to both escape with the cover they needed.

It was still two days hard march to get back to Haven. The night was colder when they camped than when they pressed on. Sael sat by the fire with Varric. Solas and Iron Bull had turned in already. Solas set on searching the Fade for any possible answers to the events at Redcliffe. The waking world certainly hadn’t provided a lot of solid evidence for them.

Sael twisted the small bundle of torn up grass in her hand, tossing it into the fire with a heavy sigh. “At this rate, I’ll never get home.”

Varric snorted quietly. “Sure you want to talk with new ears around?”

“I don’t think I have enough energy to care right now.” Sael stretched her legs and arms outward towards the fire. The heat warming her flesh. “Everytime I seem to get a step ahead my roads get pulled further away from me.”

“I’m sorry,” Varric leaned forward on his rock seat. “We’ve been friends for a long time, almost as long as I’ve known Hawke for that matter. This is the first time I’ve seen you… exhausted.”

Sael nodded. “I feel as taut as a funeral drum. Even stopping off in the Deep Roads wouldn’t do a lot of good right now. The Breach is one thing and now we have time magic getting in our way.”

Varric put a hand to her back, rubbing small rough circles along her shoulders. “You’ll pull through. All we can do is help take some pressure off where we can. If it’s an ear you need, talk.” He smiled warmly at her.

“Oh Varric,” She sighed in relief. “What I need, I can’t have right now. A spiked boot up Tevinter’s ass. The breach closed and this magister to miraculously drop dead out of convenience.”

He laughed. “Well, you have a charming rogue dwarf, an elf obsessed with the Fade and spirits, and a new giant qunari that hits really hard. What can you do with that?”

Sael’s giggle got caught in the back of her throat a moment. “I’m sure I could talk Iron Bull into throwing you at Alexius’ window. You can shoot him on your way into crashing through.”

“Where does that leave you and Solas?”

She merely raised an eyebrow.

“Oh ho, you sneaky minx.” Varric laughed with his belly. Sael shushing him before he could wake anyone. “The spirit of the Deep Roads and an elvhen apostate. Maker, help us all.” Sael tugged his sleeve hard enough to almost unseat him. “Alright, alright I know. Still, does that count as road rash?”

Sael waved Varric off. “We have done nothing of the sort. Solas may work with spirits and all things associated with the Fade. That doesn’t mean he leaps into bed off the bat.”

“Courting in this case seem like a waste.” Varric teased, elbowing Sael. “Chuckles has a stronger will than I expected.” He stood from his boulder and stretched. “Now if you don’t mind. I have to go share a tent with a large qunari and pray to the Maker he doesn’t snore.”

“I may not be the Maker or the Stone, but I am the Deep Roads.” Sael shrugged. “Would my blessings work.”

“An act of god that doesn’t cause mass death and destruction.” Varric feigned deep thought. “I’ll take it. Night, Roads.”

“Night, Varric.”

Iron Bull closed his eyes. After everything he heard, he’d rather not be caught awake.

It wasn’t long after that Sael rose to head into her own tent. The squad that came along as support settled into their nightly guard duty and patrolling the campsite. She found a barely lit lantern sitting between the cots for herself and Solas. He was laid down on his. If she didn’t know better, Sael would have guessed his stillness meant death. But as she let the tent flap fall back into place behind her, he cracked an eye open. That single eye watched her as she started rearranging the tent. The small folding stool put on the far side of the space. Her cot’s frame grabbed and pulled to line up flush to Solas’.

“Did Varric say something unsettling?” Solas asked quietly.

Sael froze a moment, surprised by his voice. “No, no, nothing like that.” She looked over to see Solas was looking at her with both eyes open, sitting up on his elbows. “I’m just feeling run down and…”

“Displaced?”

“That’s a suitable word for it, if there is one.” Sael took a deep breath and exhaled in a sigh. Her shoulders slumping forward as she sat at the end of the cot. “I usually call it a ‘rut’.”

“And moving your bed?”

Sael shrugged. “I was hoping you were asleep and I could just curl up on my half, just closer to you.”

“I’m flattered but what does being closer have to do with these feelings of unease. You are perfectly safe here.” Solas made no attempt to move her cot back. He pulled the snagged sheepskin blanket from between the frames and let it lay across both cots.

“... It’s ridiculous, but on the other side of the lantern, I feel like I’m miles from shore on a sinking raft.” She kicked a pebble that had found its way inside. “With everything that is going on, our game and the demands of the Inquisition…” She trailed off.

Solas pulled blankets and cushions out from around him silently. He took some from Sael’s cot and toss the collection to cover over both cots. He patted her side and raised an arm, inviting her to his ribs. “Come. I’ll regale you with tales of the People and the Fade till you fall asleep.”

“...” Sael smiled warmly and crawled over to claim the offered spot. She wriggled into a comfortable position in the crook of Solas’ arm. “Do you have any stories of the Dread Wolf and his rebellion?”

He pushed down into the cot. Her question made him chuckle. “I’m sure I can recall something or another for you, lethallan.”

Haven welcomed the party as it had every other time the Herald of Andraste had returned. Each time, new embellished stories cropped up only to lead to a new song in the tavern. Each companion scattered after crossing the threshold of Haven. Solas was the only one to linger a moment longer before making his way to his cabin. Sael stood at the first step leading up into Haven, a solemn look on her face. Taking that first step felt like another shackle to the Inquisition.

Varric watched Sael slowly walk toward the Chantry. Every step looked forced and hard fought. He shook his head, she had his sympathy. But that was all he was able to offer. As Sael passed out of sight, Cassandra came into view up the pathway, Varric tensed at the sight of the Seeker. She saw him and changed her direction to make a beeline toward him. Her face was a mix of emotions was wasn’t something Varric could pick apart before she came to stand in front of him.

“Varric…” Cassandra paused, debating whether or not she wanted to continue. “Do you have time to talk?”

“Just got back after weeks out. I suppose I can endure another interrogation.” He smirked at her.

Cassandra groaned. “I am not here to question you about Hawke. I am...at a loss.”

“A loss, you?”

“Everything I do to try and get along with the Herald seems to only backfire on me.” Cassandra shot a dirty glare toward the fire. “I wanted to know if you had any… advice on how to smooth things over with her.”

“Don’t like getting left behind?” Varric gestured to the adjacent log. “Must really be getting under your skin if you’re coming to me for advice.”

“...”

“Easy, Seeker, I’ll see what I can do.” Varric chuckled as Cassandra sat.   
“Have you tired just trusting her? Sael doesn’t do well with people who try to command her.”

“I only offer my opinions on tactics.”

Varric snorted. “Seeker, I have seen that in action. It doesn’t come off that way. Her asking for your thoughts doesn’t mean turning it around and asking her.”

“She is the Herald, she doesn’t need…”

“There is part of your trouble with her. You throw in two coppers when she didn’t ask but when she does, you come up a scrooge with your coin.” He shook his head. “Seeker, you know what you need?”

“...”

Varric rose and beckoned Cassandra to follow. “A drink.”

“I do not drink when I am working.”

“Way you carry on, you were born working then.” Varric started toward the tavern, Cassandra following anyhow.

“Are you saying I don’t know how to have fun?”

He shrugged, shouldering the door open. “An astute prediction, Seeker.”

Her face twisted, shoulders squaring as she walked past.

“A black kettle,” Varric reminded her, following her inside. He tugged her sleeve to keep following when she took a seat at one of the tables. Varric led her to the bar and nodded to the bartender. Two mugs of mead where sat in front of the pair.  
“Alright, Seeker, we're gunna play a little game.” Varric lowered his voice to add an ominous tone to his suggestion. “Think you can keep up?”

“A Pentaghast never backs down from a challenge, dwarf.”

He raised the mug to take a drink. “To your forthcoming embarrassment and education in not being so uptight.”

Cassandra didn’t join the toast. “What is your game?”

“It’s a little something I picked up in The Hanged Man in Kirkwall.” Varric leaned back with a smug smile. “it’s called ‘Have you ever?’.”

“Rules?”

“Simple, we take turns asking each other situations.” Varric nodded to the mug in hand. “If it’s true, drink. If not, well that should be obvious.”

Cassandra sighed, “Very well. You will go first.”

Varric thought for a long moment. “Let’s start with something easy. Have you ever been drunk before?”

Cassandra didn’t drink.

“Seeker!?” Varric slumped onto the bar. Rising to take a drink. “Are you sure you’ve ever lived?”

“I drink, Varric, I do not get drunk.” Cassandra chastised him. “My turn, have you ever… told the truth when you should have lied?”

Varric drank.

“I’m surprised at you.”

“You and everyone else.” Varric sat the mug down. “I tell the truth far more often than not. It’s often more unsettling and unbelievable than lies. I just paint them to sound like fancy lies.” He pointed a finger at Cassandra. “Ever done anything ‘questionable’ to advance your rank?”

The mug remained on the bar.

“Can I check for a pulse?”

“Not everyone is a scoundrel like you, Varric.” The game was starting to seem like an excuse for Varric to pry. “Did you lie to me about Hawke?”

“Not a fair question.”

“Answer me.”

Varric took his hands off the mug. “I can’t drink to that one.” He said nothing when she clicked her tongue in annoyance. “Now, do you have a guilty pleasure?”

Cassandra flinched, paused for a long moment. She could see Varric starting to roll his eyes. She drank. His sudden burst of laughter shook her. Mead splashing a bit on her face.

“Now we’re getting somewhere!” He praised Cassandra loudly. “I was beginning to worry about you.”

“My turn.” Cassandra almost didn’t notice the smile that crept onto her face. “Ever been chased from a woman’s bedroom with nothing but your small clothes?”

Varric raised an eyebrow. “You’re getting into the spirit of the game now.” He gripped his mug tightly.

A couple hours had passed through Varric and Cassandra’s game. He shouldered Cassandra as she feebly attempted to walk alongside him. She held on far longer than he would have bet. Varric felt sluggish and happily warm and fuzzy as he stumbled out with the Seeker. Both were fairly soused and relying on each other to walk. Varric walked past his tent and campfire down to the training grounds where Cassandra’s tent was. He helped her inside and sit roughly on her cot. She slurred her way through a request. He turned to answer her. Cassandra roughly grabbed either side of his face and pushed a messy closed kiss on his lips. She laughed, patting his shoulders before falling backward onto her cot.

She rolled roughly onto her stomach. “Yer...nat soch a bad...maaan. I dink I was rong ‘bout you.” Cassandra waved a drunken goodbye over her head and shortly begun snoring.

Varric stood frozen, trying multiple times to kick his brain back into gear. He was trying to figure out whether it was Cassandra, Seeker or Pentaghast who just kissed him.


	17. Chapter 17

Sael pushed through the Chantry doors. She let them thud close behind her, the last thing she wanted to do after being away from Haven so long was to deal with the war table. Barely past the pews when a throat cleared just off to her side. Sael barely glanced over to see Vivienne standing beside one of the pillars. A deep concerned look on the mages face. Sael knew the expression.

“Do you need something, Vivienne?”

“You’re not your usual chipper self, dear.” Vivienne forced the happy tone in her voice. “Is there something the matter?”

Sael’s face fell flat. She didn’t care enough at the moment to hide her annoyance.

“I was hoping for a private word with you.” Vivienne stepped back to make room for Sael to come into the area claimed by the mage.

“With a demon?”

“With a… spirit.”

Sael’s eyebrow jumped up. It was a dramatic change of mind from the last time they talked. “Alright, you have my curiosity.” They stepped closer to the wall for a semblance of privacy.

“I am not a person to admit when I am wrong, and I am not about to start now.” Vivienne began. Sael’s silence and return to a blank face spurred Vivienne on. “I may have been a bit more than crass when we spoke last.”

“Calling me a demon and then storming out like someone flung a bag of rotten fruit at you, yes. Crass is about right.”

Vivienne shook her head. “I am attempting to make amends, not create more strife.”

“Story of my life.”

“For a spirit you are rather… human, if you will.” Vivienne turned a hand over at Sael. “Now, you said you are the spirit of the Deep Roads. An embodiment of it similar to the emotions and purposes. As a mage that makes you far more dangerous than if you were just an elf.”

“Touching, but accurate.”

“Regardless what you are, to the people you are the Herald of Andraste and the Inquisition does remain on task for the time being.” Vivienne nodded more to herself than Sael. “If you are simply a spirit, I’m sure you can understand my watching you closely for any… demonic alterations, dear.”

“I’m indebted.” Her sarcasm was crystal clear. Sael took a deep breath and sighed. “Look, Vivienne, you don’t have to like me. Or work with me or even talk to me. I just need allies that I know aren’t going to run the moment things get dicey.” She held her hand out to the mage.

Vivienne stared at the hand for a long moment before taking it. They shook gently. “A mutual understanding then.”

“Mutual goals.” Sael let go, stepping back. “I have to meet with the advisors. It’s been an enlightening talk.” Vivienne bowed her head and slipped into the nearby chair.

Sael left, the day already weighing on her and the meeting only promised to add to her struggles. “Into the fire.”

Cullen, Leliana and Josephine were already gathered around the war table when Sael entered. She drew their attention, expressions shifted quickly from acknowledging to worry.

“I know, I look worse than I feel though.” Sael approached the table. “Let’s get this done. Fill me in as we go.” She motioned toward the table.

Cullen was the first to speak. “As I was saying, we don’t have the manpower to take the castle. Either we find another way in, or we give up this nonsense and go after the Templars.”

“Redcliffe is in the hands of a magister. This isn’t something we can stand.” Sael cut in.

Josephine produced a couple folded pieces of parchment. “The letter from Alexius asked for the Herald of Andraste by name. It’s an obvious trap.” She tossed the letter down on the table.

“We’ve heard from the Magister. Did it come by time distortion or courier?” Sael chuckled.

Leliana crossed her wrists behind her back. “And yet some of us want to sit and do nothing.” 

“Not this again.” Josephine’s face grew dark.

“Redcliffe castle is one of the most defensible fortresses in Ferelden. It has repelled thousands of assaults.” Cullen growled facing Leliana. He sounded as if he had repeated the logic a few hundred times for the past week. He turned toward Sael. “If you go in there, you’ll die. And we’ll lose the only means of closing these rifts. I won’t allow it.”

Leliana almost spit. “And if we don’t even try to meet Alexius, we lose the mages and leave a hostile forgien power on our doorstep!”

“Even if we could assault the keep, it would be for naught.” Josephine added. “An Orlaisian Inquisition’s army marching into Ferelden would provoke a war.” Her clipboard sank a bit. “Our hands are tied.”

“The magister has outplayed us.” Cullen growled.

Sael leaned forward, gripping the table, head hanging from her shoulders. “You three… just giving up after a hiccup like this. There has to be another way, beyond the obvious.” She stood up. “Other than the main gate, there has to be another way inside. A sewer? A water course? Something?”

“Nothing I know of that would work.” Cullen answered faster than Sael liked.

“Wait.”

The room snapped round to face Leliana. “There is a secret passage into the castle. An escape route for the family. It’s too narrow for our troops, but we could send agents through.”

“How long have you three been arguing over this? This passage is just now being brought up.” Sael clipped her words coldly.

Cullen shook his head. Another reason to not pursue the mages was coming. “Too risky. Those agents will be discovered before they reach the magister.”

“That’s why we need a distraction. Perhaps the envoy Alexius wants so badly.” Leliana shot back.

“Hm.” Cullen mulled the trick over a moment. “While they’re focused on Sael, we break the magister’s defenses. It could work, but it’s a huge risk.”

“Cullen.” Sael perked up. “Look at you being positive.”

The door clattered opened before anyone could give a retort. An apologetic and frustrated looking guard followed in after the Tevinter mage Sael had met in Redcliffe. The guard was waved away by Sael.

Dorian strutted into the room. Taking a moment to relish in the attention. “Fortunately, you’ll have help.”

“Well, Dorian.” Sael smirked at the man. “Lovely to see you. So you want to be helpful?”

He beamed. “Your spies will never get past Alexius’s magic without my help.” Dorian offered a smirk to Leliana. “So if you’re going after him, I’m coming along.”

“The plan puts you in the most danger.” Culen traded a sneer at Dorian for a worried frown at Sael. “We can’t, in good conscience, order you to do this. We can still go after the Templars if you’d rather not play the bait. It’s up to you.”

“Cullen… I will never, ever work with Templars so long as I live.” Sael groaned. “So if it’s all the same, I’d rather be bait for a magister or dragon.”

“Very well.” Josphine wrote some notes on her clipboard. “Everything will be ready before first light.”

Sael didn’t need to be told twice. She didn’t bother to excuse herself, merely left quickly. Varric, Iron Bull and Solas were summoned to ride out with the Herald of Andraste and the Tevinter mage, Dorian. They made good time to Redcliffe’s castle. Strangely enough there wasn’t much for obstacles between Haven and the castle. Something everyone quickly labeled as foreboding. They were unchallenged even further up into the castle foyer. The first thing to get in their way was a man just past the castle doors. Flanked by a pair of white dressed Venatori.

“Announce us.” Sael snipped darkly.

The plain dressed man stepped forward. “The invitation was for Mistress Alas’en only. The rest of you must wait here.”

“That’s cute.” Sael started walking, shoving past the castle’s crier. She patted his face in passing. “As if I would be parted from my entourage by this little nipper.”

Solas and Varric passed without a glance at the man. Iron Bull slowed to linger over the crier, grunting threateningly at him before catching back up with the others. The crier scowled, jogging to head off Sael and properly announce her to Magister Alexius. The venatori fell in behind after Iron Bull. The group was herded into the throne hall where Alexius sat on the Arl’s throne, Felix standing beside him. Grand Enchanter Fiona stood on the opposite side, at the bottom of the stairs.

The crier took up his post. “My Lord Magister, the agents of the Inquisition have arrived.”

Alexius pulled his leg back over off his other leg. He stood. “My friend! It’s good to see you again. And… your associates, of course. I’m sure we can work out some arrangements that is equitable to all parties.”

Fiona stepped up beside Sael’s party. “Are we mages to have no voice in deciding our fate?

Alexius had to force himself to look at her with a smile. “Fiona, you would not have turned your followers over to my care if you did not trust me with their lives.”

“You just have such a trusting face.” Iron Bull snickered from behind Sael.

Sael and Varric both chuckled, ignoring the flashed sneer from Alexius. “If you won’t have her, the Inquisition will.” Fiona thanked her.

Alexius resumed the throne. “The inquisition needs mages to close the Breach, and I have them. So, what shall you offer in exchange?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Alexius repeated darkly.

“Yes, nothing, besides my connections.” Sael put her hands on her hips. “Your time magic, the venatori… oh wait, I know, the fact I know you are planning on killing me here!”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.” Alexius sank into the throne, hiding behind steepled fingers.

Felix groaned. “Father, she knows everything.”

A mid look of terror filled Alexius’s face. “Felix, what have you done?”

“You wanted me here. Why?” Sael growled.

“Do you know what you are?” Alexius dropped the pretense of niceness. “You walk into my stronghold with your stolen mark.” He rose to approach Sael’s party. “A gift you don’t even understand.” He jutted an accusing finger at her hand. “And you think you’re in control? You’re nothing but a mistake.”

Sael looked around at the throne hall. “Your stronghold, a stolen fortress. You’re a charlatan. You know so much, enlighten me. What is this mark for?”

“It belongs to your betters. You wouldn’t even begin to understand its purpose.” Alexius hissed.

“Father, listen to yourself.” Felix desperately tried to reason with the magister. “Do you know what you sound like?”

“He sounds exactly like the sort of villainous cliche everyone us to be.” Dorian came out from the shadows of the pillars.

Alexius spoke his name with a deep tone of disappointment. “I gave you a chance to be apart of this. You turned me down. The Elder One has power you would not believe.” He was pleading now. “He will raise the Imperium from its own ashes.”

Sael tsked. “That’s your master, the Elder One. A mage?”

“Soon he will become a god. He will make the world bow to mages once more.” Alexius looked blissfully toward the ceiling. “We will rule from the Boeric Ocean to the Frozen Seas.”

FIona recovered suddenly. “You can’t involve my people in this!”

Dorian approached the stairs. “Alexius, this is exactly what you and I talked about never wanting to happen!” His face fell. “Why would you support this?” A venatori agent slumped dead next to a pillar.

“Stop it, Father. Give up the venatori. Let the southern mages fight the Breach, and let’s go home.” Felix reached for his father when his back was turned on him.

“No!” Alexius turned, gripping his son’s arm. “It’s the only way, Felix. He can save you!”

“Save me?”

“There is a way. The Elder One promised.” Alexius shot looks between Felix and Sael. “If I undo the mistake at the temple…”

“I’m going to die.” Felix stressed as if Alexius had never heard those words before. “You need to accept that.”

Alexius shook his head roughly. He straightened. “Seize them venatori! The Elder One demands this woman’s life!” The gargled sounds of death answered. He looked to his men to see them all collapsing to the ground, Inquisition soldiers taking their place. He backed toward the throne.

“Pawns and Kings, they all go into the same box, Alexius.” Sael taunted.

“You… you’re a mistake! You should have never existed!” Alexius hissed, anger bubbling within him. He raised a clawed gauntlet, an amulet pulsed with teal light levitated from his palm.

“NO!” Dorian bellowed, his staff swinging out to slash the amulet away from Alexius. A swirling teal and black portal expanded in the space between Sael and Alexius. Darkness filled her vision and she could feel her body being pulled in every direction possible. Even a couple impossible ones.

It was seconds, even though it felt like a handful of very painful centuries just passed. Sael stood in knee deep stagnant rancid smelling water. The ground beneath it was an unsettling mix of squishy and crunchy. The image of a corpse came to mind. Sael’s head spun and she did everything she could not to tip into the water. She barely caught sight of supply boxes, banners and a wrought iron gate. There was splashing in front and behind her.

“Blood of the Elder One!” A man in a metal version of venatori armor spoke. A companion coming up behind him. “Where’d they come from?”

They gave no time before charging into Sael and Dorian. The Tevinter mage hurried up beside her. He blasted them with fire from his staff. The first venatori screamed, gripping his suddenly super heated metal mask in agony. The other ducked to the side to attack Sael. She pushed her presence into the stonewalls and floor only to be met with nothing. She yelped and fell back, dragging the venatori with her into the water. Clawed gauntlets gripped around her throat as she struggled beneath the surface, desperately fighting not to breathe the water. Reigning in her panic, she grabbed hold of a dagger attached to her belt and brought the tip rocketing up through the water and into the exposed neck of the venatori. He collapsed a top her, trapping her underwater until Dorian hauled the dead zealot and Sael up.

Dorian made sure she would survive before taking in their new surroundings. He stopped to stare for a long time at the giant crystals of red lyrium sprouting from everywhere. “Displacement?” He finished looking around the room. “Interesting! It’s probably not what Alexius intended. The rift must have moved us… to what? The closest confluence of arcane energy?”

“Last I recall we were in the castle. Solas, Iron Bull and Varric, where are they?” Sael searched again for her connection to the Deep Roads. But even the stones in the wall felt empty and silent.

“Let’s see.” Dorian raised out of the water and considered. “If we’re still in the castle, it isn’t … Oh!” He was beaming again. “Of course! It’s not simply where- it’s when! Alexius used the amulet as a focus. It moved us through time!”

Sael frowned, brows knitting together harshly. “Dorian, I can give you millions of reasons why that isn’t news I want to hear. How would you like them, in a book, letter or written on a million bricks I launch at your face?”

“I know this is an uncomfortable problem.” Dorian raised his hands to ease her anger. “Let’s look around and see where the rift took us. Then we can figure out how to get back...if we can.”

Sael grunted. She was unable to do anything about the situation. “We best hope for the former. I would hate to be you and spend the rest of what life we have with an extremely angry me.”

“I’m sure you’re just charming.” He put on a brave face and slipped past the glowering rage of Sael. He fought not to turn and look at her behind him.

They left the dungeon quickly enough. The connected hallway was flooded with the same filith water up to their knees. Massive crystal spires of red lyrium jutted out from walls and floor. The stone seemed to be growing in every direction it could find. Over anything that remained in its way. Sael eyed the lyrium darkly and gave it as wide a berthe she could without running into an opposite one. They dashed up the staircase and through the first door. Two more sets of stairs went upward opposite on either side of Sael and Dorian. She headed for the one on the left. There was only fire red lyrium consuming the path. Another cluster filled a doorway.

Going back the way they came, Dorian and Sael went up the stairwell they had ignored. Dorian made comments in passing about the castle decor and how it had changed and not for the better. Sael threw a chuckle or single syllable words at him in place of answers. She was far more worried about her companions than she was Dorian’s taste in tapestries at the moment. Still persistent was the red lyrium spires growing everywhere. Grates allotted smattering of addition light, but still the rooms and hallways remained light mainly by dying torches and the lyriums glow. Making their way through the halls until they came to another dead end and a single shut door. The blood written glyphs and sigils on the floor were enough to tense Sael even more. The entire ordeal was unsettling.

The room beyond the door was much the same as what little else they had seen in the castle. Flooding, red lyrium, wrought iron cells, and creepy lighting. The only new addition was a single elf mage repeating a plea over and over again, ‘Andraste blessed me’. At the end of the room was another stairway leading up to yet another door. It opened up to a cavernous room. Metal grating suspended over an obscured bottom. Two of the three other doors around the room were accessible. Both guarded by venatori zealots. Sael tried her magic again, still nothing responded to her. Unsure who to thank, she settled for karma, both guards at either door were near an edge. Sael insturucted Dorian to hit one with a blast of magic hard enough to knock one over the side. She picked a sizable rock from the ground and explained her intent. Hit the zealot in the head to make him fall off. Both spirit and mage agreed and timed their attacks together.

Dorian’s zealot went over with a long scream.

Sael’s staggered as the the rock’s impact echoed through his helmet. He too fell to his death.

Door on the left was their first pick. More stairs, leading down this time. The end of that hallway gave them to doors. Dorian selected the left, citing the fact that gong left had thus far been blessedly free of opponents. The room gave them nothing. Sael pushed through the other door. More doors and rushing water from the ceiling. She growled in frustration and stormed through the next door. A voice at the back of the room. Sael rushed over to find Fiona, partly encased in red lyrium.

Fiona gasped, her breath and voice sounded warped and strained. “You’re… alive? How? I saw you… disappear… into the rift.”

Sael was disturbed at the sight of the Grand Enchanter. “What happened to you?” Fiona briefly explained the disease that red lyrium had become.

“The date.” Dorian suddenly pressed. “Can you tell us the date? It’s very important.”

“Harvestmere… nine forty two dragon.”

“Nine forty two? We missed an entire year!” Dorian paled a bit in the lyrium’s glow.

“We need to go back.” Sael growled. “We have to get out of here. This is… it’s not right.”

“Please… stop this from happening.” Fiona cried out. “Alexius… serves the Elder One. More powerful… than the Maker… No one… challenges him and lives.”

Sael only nodded to Fiona. She turned to Dorian with an intense demanding look. He collected his thoughts a moment. “Only hope is to find the amulet that Alexius used to send us here.” He shook his head. “If it still exists, I can use it to reopen the rift at the exact spot we left.” He noted the unchanged look on Sael’s face. “Maybe.”

They left Fiona. Her parting words explained the Leliana was being held somewhere in the castle. If anyone had a proper explanation as to what happened, it would be the spymaster. Dorian and Sael could see nothing they could do for Fiona and left the dungeon taking the only comfort to be found with them, go back and stop this future from coming to pass. Going back the way they came, they took the only other door available from the grated floor room. Down another thing of stairs to a small room with two doors. Sael was beginning to make room in her heart for a grudge against castle designs. Through the first door on the right came a familiar voice. Sael’s stomach tightened a bit.

“Three hundred bottles of beer on the wall, three hundred bottles of beer… take one down, pass it around…” The Iron Bull’s voice was distorted but still his own. He sounded exhausted through his singing.

Sael ignored the other cells in the room and ran straight to The Iron Bull’s cell. He was locked in a cell too small for most any Qunari. A top that was a floor to ceiling jagged red lyrium pillar. He turned and backed away from the cell door.

“You’re not dead. You’re supposed to be dead.” Bull struggled to make sense of Sael standing in front of him. “There was a burn on the ground and everything.”

Sael forced the lock as Dorian explained. “Alexius didn’t kill us. His spell sent us through time. This is our future.” He was proud of his understanding and explanation.

The Iron Bull glared at the Tevinter mage. “Well, it’s my present.” He eyed Sael and Dorian. “And in my past, I definitely saw you both die.

“Bull.” Sael looked the Qunari over. He was more frail looking than she remembered. Thin translucent arches of red energy came off him in places. A constant red glow surrounded his body. “You don’t look so good.”

He stepped out of the cell. “Red lyrium. If I’m lucky, it’ll kill me. If not… I’m hoping to die fighting.”

 

“You’re dying?!”

“No he’s not,” Dorian cut in. “If we find Alexius, we go back, and none of this will happen. Remember?”

“You’re putting a lot of faith in this plan. You best hope it doesn’t fail. Seeing Bull here, doesn’t make me eager for whoever else is here.”

“Alexius isn’t the one you need to worry about. It’s his ‘Elder One’.” The Iron Bull growled through his warning. “He killed the Empress of Orlais, and then used the confusion to launch an invasion in the south.”

“ … “

“The army was all demons. Ever fought a demon army? I don’t recommend it.” Iron Bull shook his head. A quick search and he scrounged up a weapon from the nearby crates.

“I’m going to shove my foot so far up his ass, I’m going to need a dentist to do a pedicure.” Sael hissed as she turned to the door. “Come on, let’s see who else beside Leliana is here.”

“No time like the present.” Iron Bull added.

“I’m not a fan of the present right now.” Sael grumbled.

Through another series of doors and stairs they found more cells. Most of the rooms were empty, save for more doors and stairs. Eventually another voice reached the group.

“Andraste’s scared knickers, you’re alive.” Varric gasped, climbing to his feet. He looked much the same as Iron Bull. “Where were you? How’d you escape?” He sounded hurt and astonished.

Dorian explained again. “We didn’t escape. Alexius’s magic sent us into the future.”

Varric forced a chuckle, a sad look cast at Sael. “Everything that happens to you is weird.”

“Varric, you…”

“Mind your tongue, Roads.” His smile remained unchanged, even after all the horrors he had faced. “I look damn good for a dead man.”

Dorian scowled a little. “You’re no more dead than we are.”

“The not dying version of this red lyrium stuff?” Varric shot back. “Way worse, just saying.” He noticed Iron Bull behind them. “He fill you in on the big parts?” Sael nodded with Iron Bull. “Good, let’s get going.”

Sael was stopped by Varric pulling her aside a bit from the others. “Look, Roads, there is something you need to know… he’s here to. I’ve heard him in the other room trying to break out with spells.”

She froze, “…”

“I’m sorry.” Varric offered. “I don’t know what to say. He’s been quiet for the last… couple weeks. I think it’s been a couple of weeks. Time is hard to judge here.”

Dorian came up, unable to pry himself from eavesdropping. “... ‘He’ who?”

“Solas.”


	18. Chapter 18

Varric was true to his word. The room next to the one housing the dwarf’s cell held another occupant. There was no voice coming from within, just a slow rhythmic tapping against stone. It was hollow of any emotion, just repeated as if it was the sole sound to hold back insanity and desperation. Sael asked the other three to wait outside the door. A short protest was met with a pleading glance. The others finally agreed and turned to guard the door.

Sael approached the last cell in the room. Solas rose from the floor, the stick in his hand fell with a clatter. “You’re alive!” he rasped. “We saw you die! Spirit or not, you ceased to exist!”

“Alexius only forced us forward in time. Dorian is here as well.” Sael couldn’t open the door fast enough. Solas looked the same as Varric and Bull.

“Can you reverse the process? You can return and...the events of the last year… It may not be too late.” Solas quickly stepped out and took Sael’s hands into his. “You can stop this from ever happening.”

Sael felt her knees buckle a bit. She squeezed his hands tighter to regain her balance. “Solas, I’m so sorry. Even if it can be reversed it doesn’t change the fact that this happened to you. To see you like this, I never thought I’d feel like this again.”

“Again?” Solas squeezed back, twisting to see her fallen face.

She tried to reign her emotions in. “Sannek. It feels like I'm losing Sannek all over again. Your plan… our plan never came to reality and now you’re dying.”

Solas shushed her softly, a freed hand stroking her head. “Ma’ falon, it’s alright. True, for this version of me, my dream has become a hellscape of a reality. I lost you and in those moments, I suddenly realized you meant a great deal to me. You changed everything.”

Sael couldn’t stop it, she sank to the ground. “What if this fails? What if I’m forced to live in this time where you’re dead and there is nothing I can do about it. My magic is gone and I am losing you.”

“No, ma’ falon, you aren’t going to lose me.” Solas squatted to the balls of his feet. “You won’t fail because you have to carry on. I want you to do something for me.”

“What?”

“I reason to believe you will return.” Solas pulled her close, arms wrapping around her. “When you return, speak these words to me. An open heart is not a mistake, withholding trust is.”

“I will.”

Solas sat back, a single gentle kiss planted on her forehead. “I… It took a year of this hell to learn exactly what you were beginning to mean to me in your absence.” He pulled Sael to her feet. “This world is an abomination, I am willing to give my life to make sure it never happens.”

“Solas…”

He let go of her and headed for the door, a cold and impassive face as he stepped through. Varric and Iron Bull nodded in unspoken understanding with Solas. Varric mentioned Alexius having locked himself in the throne room last he overheard and it being the best place to look for him. The five of them made their way back through the rooms, cells and hallways until they found the hall with the suspended grate floors. The third door was accessible, guarded by three venatori zealots. Dorian barely had a chance to do anything as Iron Bull lunged at the zealots. One thrown over the side, the other two’s heads were smashed together into a bloody mess. Iron Bull, Solas and Varric were happy enough to be able to do anything, most of all, fight back.

Through the third door was the barracks. The group took a moment to loot and rearm themselves with leftover gear. More waterlogged hallways and red lyrium invaded rooms. It was a while before they started to hear a man’s voice talking in the distance.

“There is no Maker. The Elder One has taken all that is His and will soon rule from His city.” The voice was coming from the top of the next flight of stairs. They threw open the door as a woman spoke. “That still doesn’t make him a god.” Varric shot a single bolt through the venatori’s helmet.

A woman hung by her wrist threw her legs around the man’s neck, with a twist she snapped his neck. Sael rushed over and retrieved the keys off his body. Leliana watched her as if she was looking at a ghost. “You’re alive!” Sael started at the first shackle. “We sent mages to the Deep Roads, into the Fade through dreams. No one could find you.”

“I’m sorry. This is not meant to happen.” Sael offered the only apology she could think of. “I didn’t die so there was no returning to the Roads for me. To be honest I didn’t think a spirit could travel through time.”

“I see.” Leliana lowered her arms painfully, a hand rubbing around her wrist. “After we received word you vanished, the Deep Roads over took the dwarves. The dark spawn…”

“Wait.” Dorian stepped up. “She’s a spirit? Not an elf?”

“Later.” Sael growled. “You’re safe now.” She turned back to Leliana.

Leliana shook her head. “Forget ‘safe’. You need to end this. Do you have weapons?” Sael nodded. “Good. The magister’s probably in his chambers.

Dorian attempted to explain what happened for the fifth time. He was stopped short by Leliana. “No. Mages always wondered why people fear them. No one should have this power.”

“It’s dangerous and unpredictable. Before the Breach, nothing we did-”

“Enough.” Leliana hissed darkly. “This is all pretend for you. Some future you hope will never exist. I suffered. The whole world suffered. It was real.” She took steps toward Dorian, he mimicked them backwards. Dorian fell silent. It was agreed upon to move on.

A side door let them out onto another grated walkway. They picked their way over as rusting chains groaned against the weight of the group. Skeletons hung from rings on either side. A giant hole above them let in fog and bird calls. Through the door, Sael’s mark flared up, alerting them to a neary rift. The members of this time rushed forward, eager for battle and chance to decide their fate. Unable to use her own magic, she resorted to hiding behind the door while everyone else tore through the demons. Once the rift was ready, she used the mark to close it.

“I don’t remember you being a coward.” Iron Bull didn’t hide his anger. “What’s changed.”

“I-I can’t use my magic. Something is wrong, ever since we got thrown forward in time.” Sael stared at the floor. She felt useless while dying men and women were doing all the fighting.

Solas cleared his throat. “Her magic is, I think, based on ownership. As the Deep Roads have fallen into pure chaos, they are no longer hers.”

Iron Bull crossed his arms over his chest. “Before the demon army I might have been shocked, but this is no longer the weirdest thing I’ve seen.”

“Stay low, Roads.” Varric tapped the borrowed crossbow in approval and went on with the others.

Dorian walked alongside Sael. “So you’re a spirit possessing a body?” He barely glanced at the docks they passed through. “From the Deep Roads?”

“Let me make this brief since the cat’s out of the bag once again.” Sael was strongly considering holding a meeting in Haven to explain her existence to avoid this conversation again. “I made this body of my own will, and I am the spirit of the Deep Roads. Not one or part of, I am their embodiment.”

“Fascinating!” Dorian became fixed looking Sael over. “So you aren’t bound to a mage or anyone. But you can use magic like any mage.”

“I first came into being when the Deep Roads were being built. I have had time to learn. Can we discuss this another time? Bullshit future hell version isn’t exactly a good time to talk.”

Another rift in the courtyard, Sael ducked behind a cart. Closed and moving on again. She couldn’t bring herself to look at her companions for more than a second. They red lyrium poisoned bodies only made her feel heartache and guilt. All too human emotions she never got the hang of dealing with. It was unsettling to feel. Inside the castle proper was barren. No servants milling about, a court engaging in gossip or squabbling. Broken painting hanging slanted on the walls. Room after room empty save for the occasional skeleton draped across furniture and beds. Dorian made an attempt to learn what happened, this time in regards to Felix. Leliana told him he’d find out soon enough. It left Sael with a foreboding feeling. The throne room was finally found. A rift hung in high vaulted ceiling. Broken scaffolding and pillars of red lyrium filled the outer area of the room. Tattered carpets beneath demon and shades. Sael was forced to hide again as her magic continued to ignore her. The others dispatched the demons. Sael only could close the rift as soon as they were finished. Picking over the remains, Dorian found a red lyrium shard similar to ones seen back in the Hinterlands. Sael pocketed it. 

They all approached the door that led to Alexius. It was magically sealed. A circle with slots looked as if they would fit the red lyrium shard they had found. A quick count told them there were four more to find. They had to be somewhere in the caste. It took just over an hour a piece to find. Every minute that crawled by as they battled venatori zealots, demons and time itself gifted Sael with more and more fear. She was effectively useless in this time and the signs of the red lyrium claiming her friends were beginning to show. It started with Iron Bull hiding the fact that a flight of stairs winded him. Later it was Varric’s wit missing the mark as Dorian commented on the shame of a destroyed bust. Leliana chillingly quiet through it all. Just as the final shard was found, Solas had started to lose his graceful gait to a near wobbling shuffle. Time was running out for them and Sael didn’t wish to witness their deaths.

They returned to the throne room. Sael stalling with the red lyrium shards to give the others a chance to catch their breath. The lyrium fell from her fingers into the perfectly shaped slots. The door’s key illuminated green followed by a loud clanging of something mechanical struggling free. The strange door split down the middle of it’s flawless surface, opening outward.

Alexius stood in front of a roaring fire, solemnly studying the flames as if they were to give him an answer to his questions. He looked fairly unchanged from the Redcliffe Dorian and Sael left behind. At his side was a huddled shadow of Felix. His face was gaunt with the Blight that plagued him.

“Was it worth it?” Sael’s tone was a burning knife’s edge.

“ … “

“What did it cost you?”

“Everything.” Alexius sighed heavily. “For my country, my son… but it means nothing now.” He barely looked over his shoulder. “I knew you would appear again. Not that it would be now. But I knew I hadn’t destroyed you… My final failure.”

Dorian grumbled before stepping forward. “Everything you did to the world. Yourself.”

“It doesn’t matter now.” He shook his head, still staring at the stone floor. “All we can do is wait for the end.”

Sael felt cold, a chilled rage in her stomach. “What’s ending?”

Alexius chuckled, head turning only a bit to acknowledge Sael. “The irony that you should appear now, of all the possibilities. All that I fought for. All that I betrayed, and what have I wrought.”

“There is no sympathy for you.” Sael crossed her arms over her chest.

“Ruin and death, there is nothing else. Not even sympathy.” The sound of Alexius’s will and heart dropping away into nothingness was clear in his voice. “The Elder One comes: for me, for you, for us all.”

Felix weakly cried out as Leliana hauled him to his feet, knife as his throat. The deathly pallor visible in fire’s dancing lights. Alexius whipped around on his feet, a begging hand raised in defense. “Felix!” He rasped.

Dorian withheld a gasp. “That’s Felix?” He turned his anger to his old mentor. “Maker’s breath, Alexius, what have you done?”

“He would have died, Dorian! I saved him!” Alexius’s face twisted in anguish. “Please, don’t hurt my son. I’ll do anything you ask.”

Varric was the only one to speak up. “Easy, Nightingale, kid is an innocent in this.”

“No one is innocent.” She tore the blade across Felix’s throat, splashing Alexius in the spray.

The scream from Alexius was inhuman. He bashed the butt of his staff hard onto the stone floor. The magical burst from it sent Leliana flying backward. He teleported himself in the center of the group and began firing spells at all of them. Sael was forced to take cover behind a fallen pillar.

Iron Bull charged straight into close quarter combat with Alexius. All the while screaming ‘Horns up’ at the magister. His axe slowly chipping away at the mages barrier. Dorian’s fire and Solas’s ice kept the magister from finding a solid position to attack everyone. Varric and Leliana picked their shots to try and herd Alexius closer to Iron Bull.

A rift tore open the air above them while Alexius summoned an unbreakable shield, at least in the sense of however brief it would last. Sael threw her arm out and connected with the rift. She focused on disrupting it so that the demons would be stunned for a moment. Just as connection was about to break off, a rock rammed into her arm. She felt something break but gave it little attention thanks to the assaulting rock clung to her arm. The Deep Roads were lost to her but nonetheless a rock had answered her magic. She took a breath and sent out a call to anything that would heed her summon. Rocks and stone from the castle rattled before flying to her arms. She was once again armed. Sael vaulted over the pillar and into the battle. A demon’s head was the first to be smashed by her stone clawed gauntlets.

Another wave of demons slaughtered by the group. They returned their combined efforts on Alexius. It took longer, but Alexius barred himself off from attack and a rift appeared again overhead. This one brought envy demons and far more shades and wraiths than last time. Sael was in the face of every single one, right alongside Iron Bull. Alexius once again open to attack, they managed to kill him as he was attempting to summon another rift and barrier. They vanished as the life left the magister. Time distortions, rifts and magisters were no more.

Dorian checked for signs of life, his hand fell away. “He wanted to die. Didn’t he.” He fished the amulet from the Tevinter robes. “All those lies he told himself, the justification.” The amulet turned over in his hands several times. “He lost Felix long ago and didn’t even notice.” Dorian stood slowly. “Oh Alexius…”

“We need to go home. This…” Sael looked down at the corpse. “It isn’t our fate.”

“I suppose that’s true.” Dorian agreed weakly. The amulet was raised up to be seen between them. “This is the same amulet he used before. I think it’s the same one we made in Minrathous.” He tried to smile. “That’s a relief.” He gestured for Sael to follow. “Give me an hour to work out the spell he used, and I should be able to reopen the rift.”

Leliana stormed up to them. Frantic anger on her face. “An hour? That’s impossible! You must go now!” The castle shook with a deafening unholy roar from outside. “The Elder One.”

“Was wondering when he’d show.” Iron Bull said flatly. He looked to Solas and Varric. There was an unspoken agreement that passed between the three.

Varric sighed, pulling the forgien crossbow up into his palm. “You may not be, Bianca, but at least you’re here in the end.” He and Iron Bull took a few steps toward the doors.

“We’ll head out front.” Iron Bull cracked a quirky grin. The first Sael had seen since he joined them. “Keep them off your tail.”

Solas waved the two to go ahead. He quickly closed the distance between himself and Sael. “There is no time for all I’ve wanted to say.”

“Don’t, don’t do this...I can’t let you die for me.” Sael stifled back a sob. “This wasn’t the plan.”

Solas gave her a grim smile. “All too often things go awry.” He gently grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her forward into a brief deep kiss. He stepped back, struggling to pull his hand free. “I’m sorry…”

Dorian had to take Sael by the waist and keep her from running after them. Leliana notched an arrow and drew her bow. “Look at us. We’re already dead. The only way we live is if this day never comes.” She turned to face the door that closed behind Solas, Varric and Iron Bull. “Cast your spell… You have as much time as I have arrows.”

The amulet was suspended in a torrent of green and black energy surrounding it. Dorian focused all his attention on reversing the spell. He only threw an assurancing glance at Sael to be sure she remained close. She looked terrified and struggling to keep beside him. He was unsure which would break first, the spell or Sael.

Battle sounded beyond the door. “Though darkness closes, I am shielded by flame.” Leliana drew an arrow, the next hanging in her hand at the drawstring. The magic sealing the door burst to light and faded, broken. Stone crunching on the other side.

Solas’s lifeless body unceremoniously thrown to the floor as demons walked through. An ogre carrying a horn from Iron Bull. Sael buckled and screamed.

“Andraste guide me. Maker, take me to your side.” Leliana’s arrow fell each of their targets, venatori and demons alike. They kept pouring in, she was forced back a step. An arrow was fired back, turning her shoulder aside.

Dorain had the spell nearing completion. Sael took a step toward the demons. He grabbed her arm and yanked her back. “You move, and we all die!” He roared at her over the din of monsters.

Leliana was forced to defend with only her bow. Three more venatori died at her hands. She saw the rift form behind Dorian and Sael. She threw away all finesse and tactics, fighting with all the savergry she could muster. The rift engulfed Sael and Dorian just as an envy demon and a venatori assassin finally managed to claim Leliana’s life.

There was no time to come to grips with traveling through time. Between blinks she went from a broken, bloody and dead Solas thrown like a rag doll to seeing the shocked expression on a living breathing Alexius’s face.

Dorian recovered first. “You’ll have to do better than that.”

Alexius of nine forty one dragon sank to his knees, defeated. Seal seethed in front of him. “Speak,” Her voice but a strained violent whisper as she bent down to his face. “Utter a single claim, whine, boast… anything at all… after what I just saw. Understand me magister, there won’t be a force in this universe that will be able to stop what I have planned for you.”

“...”

“What you planned to do,” Sael gritted her teeth, wrathful glare burning into the very soul Alexius had. “I will have you wishing your bloodline never came into existence. I will show you horror. I will give you pain. And when you break” his eyes left hers. “LOOK! AT! ME!” She roared. He obeyed. “I will make you forget and give you hope and steal it all again until I am bored with you. Maybe, just maybe I will grant you death.”

The throne room was as silent as a forgotten cemetery.

She released Alexius from her gaze. “Get this creature out of my sight.” She coldly ordered the Inquisition soldiers. They quickly hauled him away.

Varric shuddered. “She’s neither evil or good. But it’s still good to fear her.” He muttered under his breath for Iron Bull and Solas to hear. They both only nodded.

“Glad that’s over with.” Dorian chimed in, attempting to lighten the mood. He noticed Sael keeping from looking at her companions. The sound of heavy armor soldiers marching into the throne room. “Or not.”

A familiar face came in after the men took post along the throne room. “Grand Enchanter, imagine how surprised I was when I learned you had given Redcliffe castle away to a Tevinter magister.”

“King Alistair!”

“Especially since I’m fairly sure Redcliffe belongs to Arl Teagan.” Alistair added.

“Your majesty,” Fiona scrambled. “We never intended-”

“I know what you intended. I wanted to help you.” Alistair continued. “But you’ve made it impossible.” He frowned, head shaking in disappointment. “You and your followers are no longer welcome in Ferelden.”

Fiona paled. “But… we have hundreds who need protection! Where will we go?”

“The Inquisition will be willing to take in the mages.” Sael spoke, but she didn’t sound enthusiastic about it.

“And what are the terms of this arrangement?”

“Hopefully better than what Alexius gave you.” Dorian turned to Sael. “The Inquisition is better than that, yes?”

“As allies.” Sael explained. She patted Fiona’s shoulder.

“I’ll pray that the rest of the Inquisition honors your promise, then.” Fiona bowed her head in thanks.

“Oh, Seeker is going to love this.” Varric chuckled. “Have fun with that, Shortcut.”

She smiled. It was comforting to hear and see her friends whole again. Sael returned the slight bow. “The Breach threatens all of Thedas. We can’t afford to be divided now. We can’t fight it without you. Any chance of success requires your full support.”

“I’d take that offer, if I were you. One way or another, you’re leaving my kingdom.” Alistair added.

“We accept. It would be madness not to. I will gather my people and ready them for the journey to Haven.” Fiona stood up straight. “The Breach will be closed. You will not regret giving us this chance.”

“I’m sure.” Sael groaned. “All I know for sure is that I'm going to get an ear full for this. Right or wrong thing to do.”


	19. Chapter 19

The tiny snow covered town was a more delightful sight than it usually was. Sael typically looked at it as something too small, confining and troublesome for her taste. After the events with Alexius’s amulet in Redcliffe, Haven had truly become its name. It helped ground her back in the present day reality that in fact the people she was fond of, that were interesting, or she hadn’t realized she was beginning to fall in love with, were not dead. It was hard to look at them, their faces twisted and gaunt from red lyrium sickness in the to-be avoided future, still fresh in her mind.

The Iron Bull was the first to confront her. She could see Varric trying to reason with the mercenary Qunari against it, but his mind was set. Iron Bull came up and put a gentle massive hand on her shoulder. “Come with me.” He found no resistance as he guided her toward his tent. Inside she sat roughly on a stool. “That bad, huh?”

“The truth of what my existence means right now has come into full view.” She curled in on herself a bit. “And the cost should I fail.”

“All the way from Redcliffe, you didn’t say a word. Not even to Varric or Solas.” Iron Bull pulled his cot to angle towards her as he sat down. “What I’ve seen, that isn’t like you. Talk, it’ll help.”

Sael explained the year ahead of them’s end result. The deaths, demon army and his own fate as his request. The color had drained from his face. “All the world thrown into chaos and ruin if I vanish. Even just a year.”

“That… none of that sounds good.” Iron Bull repressed a shudder at the idea of a demon army. It would be unsettling to most anyone. “At least your goal is clear.” Sael looked up at him, confused about what she might have missed. He grinned. “Don’t die. You have enough people here already to ensure that.”

Sael dropped her head, shaking it and chuckling. “Bull, I can’t explain it like it deserves to be but, thank you. I needed that clarity.”

She left the tent, a large weight off her heart. Still there were troubles still thrashing about there, but at least she could hold her head up as she walked. Walking into Haven was a mix of emotions. A vast number of faces looked confused, worried or angry with her. The minority looked to be relieved. It had to have been her decision regarding the mages and the termless alliance she struck with them. Exhaustion began to nip at her heels again. They had sent a raven with the news just as they mounted up and left Redcliffe. They arrived only two days behind it. She could tell by the lack of shook in the citizens and soldiers. The advisors were most likely at the Chantry, waiting for her in the war room. Sael wasn’t mentally prepared to see them just yet. Food, a break and sleep were required first. As she stalled on the path leading up to the Chantry, she caught sight of Solas out of the corner of her eye. He noticed her pause and brought a plate of fruit from behind his back for her to see. She smiled weakly, food first.

Half of the plate was gone before Sael sat back in the only chair Solas had in his cabin. She sighed deeply and sank further. He had been blessedly silent the entire time, sketching in a journal, only stealing glances at her every now and again. She let the silence resume for a moment longer.

She hadn’t thanked him when he let the plate pass from him to her hands. Point of fact, she hadn’t said anything at all since she and the Tevinter mage reappeared in Redcliffe castle. Her anger toward Alexius was drastically high. A sharp contrast of her sarcasm and qips sent the magister way in their first meeting and returning visit. The threat sent goosebumps all over his body. It left him speechless as Varric made comment on it. After she devoured the apple, he pulled out his journal, his own nerves needed soothing. He found a sense of calm in drawing the lines of Sael. The curve of her back, the sharp angles of her arms and twisting lines of hair and fingers. He opted to not draw her, mouthful and juices running down the side of her chin. He didn’t think she’d find it flattering. As he quieted his nerves, she finished.

“Sael,” Solas broke the silence. “Might we discuss what happened?” She flinched. “I know it is still raw memory for you, but-”

“I saw you.” Sael bit her lip, trying to will the tears welling in her eyes back. “I-”

Solas waved the next piece off. “No, I wouldn’t want to know the future that won’t exist.”

“I have a message from you to you.” Sael sat up a bit straighter in the chair. She turned to face him. “It was a last request.”

“Very well.”

“You told me to tell you, ‘An open heart is not a mistake, withholding trust is’.” Sael sniffled, her hands came up to either side of her face to hide the fact the tears were winning. “We talked in private.”

Solas was frozen, silent. His face flew through a series of emotions as he considered his future self’s message. He came to a conclusion. He rose from his bedside and dropped to his knees at Sael’s feet. “He’s right.” Solas pulled Sael across to wrap his arms around her. She melted against his shoulder, falling from the chair and hugging him back as tightly. Sael sobbed, painful, heaving cries against his shirt.

Feeling in his legs had long since left by the time she had stopped and drifted off to sleep. She hadn’t been entirely willing, he whispered a sleep spell beneath her cries to slowly claim her. He didn’t let her go but took the time to contemplate his future words to himself. Was she truly worth it? His plans at the end of this didn’t include another at his side. His plan had his entire being drenched in blood and hundreds of thousands of deaths attributed to him. It wasn’t a kind, generous or gentle plan. Change was never soft of considerate of everyone. It wasn’t something he wanted to see another pay for. The choice he made could only result in his death at the hands of someone raised up as a righteous hero to stem the tide of chaos and death.

Now, a woman, spirit, had caught a glimpse of a future that must be stopped. One where he was subjected to a slow painful death. Giving his own life to ensure her safety and return with a simple message. Trust her, allow yourself to love and be loved. You don’t have to be alone, choosing to suffer it was an error he wished to correct. Solas was nervous, scared even, he wasn’t sure he knew how to trust another that much. He gave his life for that message, Solas knew he had to try. The months he had spent around this spirit, feelings stronger than friendship had begun to bud within him. He rationalized and battered them away for her and his sakes. Solas smiled, he briefly pictured a life with the woman sleeping in his arms. Could things really be that simple, that happy?

Solas lifted the spell and slowly woke Sael. She looked at him, dazed a bit. “It’s alright, you have been through so much. You needed the sleep.”

“I remember,” Sael traced back her memory. “Falling and crying,” She looked around to see they hadn’t moved. “Oh, Solas, don’t tell me you… your legs. They must be dead by now.”

He smiled. It was warm and sweet, almost loving. “It’s alright, a small price to pay. It gave me time to think.” He helped her sit back on the floor in front of him. “If you’re feeling up to it, tell me everything. It may be useful to us.”

It was dark when Sael finally came out of Solas’s cabin. Dorian had taken a nearby cabin. He was standing outside swirling a chipped wine glass of cheap port suspended by his fingers. He looked at the door she came from and back to Sael with a smug grin and a raised eyebrow. She mouthed ‘you wish, business’ as she headed for the Chantry. He raised the glass in a salute. There was no telling how much longer the advisors were going to wait on her now.

Cullen’s voice came through the opening of the Chantry doors. “It is not a matter up for debate. There will be abominations among the mages, and we must be prepared!”

Josephine was her first sight of the three. She shifted her weight away from Cullen. “If we resend the offer of an alliance, it makes the Inquisition appear incompent at best, tyrannical at worst.” Sael came to stand beside her.

“What were you thinking?” Cullen turned his growing anger at Sael. “Turning mages loose with no oversight? The veil is torn open.”

Leliana, Cassandra and Josephine looked to Sael for her reaction. Sael scowled. “Oh no, no, no, no. You do not get to yell at me. If you knew exactly what you wanted done, you shouldn’t have sent me with the vague orders of ‘figure it out’ in the first place. Secondly, I absolutely will not stand for an entire group to collared like slaves just because you produce maybes and this happened one time in place I haven’t been to my friend’s sister’s best friend overheard from a guard.”

Cullen was silent.

“Lastly, I am the Deep Roads, I know a real problem looks like.” Sael continued on. “I would rather trust a free mage who wants to help rather than one imprisioned and forced to help at sword point to control themselves. No one is going to be pampered here, the Breach saw to removing that luxury.”

“This isn’t an issue of self-control!” Cullen squared his shoulders back. “Even the strongest mage can be overcome by demons in conditions like these!”

Sael closed the small gap between them to stand almost nose to nose with Cullen. “Then I suggest as a former Templar with experience in the Circles, you make preparations without harassment. Or have you lost that sliver of compassion as well?”

Cassandra knew a fight when she saw one. She cut in to divert attention. “While I may not completely agree with the decision, I support it.” She took a breath as Sael stepped back. She thanked the Maker for that small gift. “The sole point of the Herald’s mission was to gain the mages’ aid, and that was accomplished.”

A voice came from behind the group. “The voice of pragmatism speaks! And here I was just starting to enjoy the circular arguments.”

Cassandra turned to see Dorian. “Closing the Breach is all that matters.”

“The Breach being closed might bring all of this to an end. I want to get it done as soon as possible.” Sael agreed.

“Agreed.” Josephine joined.

Leliana nodded, a grim look in her eyes. “We should look into the things you saw in this ‘dark future’. The assassination of Empress Celene? A demon army?”

Dorian gave a knowing smirk. “Sounds like something a Tevinter cult might do? Orlais falls, the Imperium rises. Chaos for everyone!”

“One battle at a time.” Cullen’s tone had softened a bit. Still tense. “It’s going to take time to organize our troops and the mage recruits.” He took steps toward the back of the Chantry, “Let’s take this to the war room.” Sheepishly, “Join us. None of this means anything without your mark, afterall.”

“Expect me.” Sael said with a little chill in her voice as possible.

“I’ll skip the war counsel.” Dorian pushed off the pillar he leaned on. “But, I would like to see this Breach up close, if you don’t mind.”

Cassandra quickly traded disgruntled scowl for a blank expression. “You’re staying?”

“Oh didn’t I mention!” Dorian chuckled. “The South is so charming and rustic. I adore it to little pieces.”

“So long as there is no time magic.” Sael smirked back.

He shrugged. “Excellent choice. Of course, no time magic. I’ve had my fill of that nonsense for two lifetimes.

“I’ll begin preparations to march on the summit, Maker willing, the mages will be enough to grant us victory.” Cullen backed away and headed to start on his long list of tasks.

Dorian followed Sael out. He started to ask why she was stalling the meeting in the war room, stopped only by the shared memory of what occurred in that twisted future. She needed a break, any kind. She let him walk alongside her in silence as she briskly made her way through Haven. Past the gates and even further, he began to wonder where she was taking him.

“Don’t get this wrong, I love prying but this time it seems almost uncouth to do so.” Dorian watched as mountains slowly consumed Haven behind them. Traveling back through the route she had taken to reach Haven in the first place, she led Dorian on. Eventually he looked up at the sky and saw the Breach growing larger and larger with every step they took. She led him to the ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes and further still to a hidden door at it’s lowest level. A passage that led straight down into pitch blackness.

He hesitated. “You know, you’re certainly more talkative when the others around. Care to explain?”

“Just get down here Dorian,” Sael answered back from the inky abyss. He did, after a long moment of debate. “You wanted to know about the spirit side of me, right?” She waited for him to step off the ladder “Well this is the easiest way to prove anything.” Torches sprung to life at the beckoning of her curling fingers.

Sael took a deep breath, her body becoming opaque in time with her breath. She was tinted silver, speckled with dots of hard grey, black and brown. “Much better.” facing Dorian, she settled to a solid form. “Dorian Pavus, a pleasure to meet you,” She bowed. “I am the Deep Roads. Their embodiment and voice.”

Dorian let his staff clatter to the ground. Maker’s breath, fascinating, I have a great deal of questions.” He circled her like a vulture over a leftover carrion.

“I’ll accept three for the sake of time.”

“Very well.” Dorian tugged at his mustache. “You are aware of everything in the Deep Roads then, and you must return to… recharge.”

“That feels like two at once but I’ll let it go.” Sael looked out to the chasm beyond them. “Yes, in a way. I can tell when my roads are being destroyed or altered, but I can’t read Darkspawn. You barely ever spent time here but what I do know is you were tricked into the Deep Roads once.”

“Oh?”

“Let’s see,” She searched her memory. “... Maker’s left nut, who in the world thinks a midnight stroll needs to end here. Must have had too many drinks to agree this. Is that a rock or a bug. It’s walking that rock up and no, no, no I am out. There isn’t-” 

“A dick in the world worth this.” Dorian finished. “I see, you record the essence of a person when they enter. Long here, more info. Truly amazing.” He thought on his second question. “Given Haven’s love for you, I can safely assume you’re not public knowledge. Some must know…” A moment from the future snapped to the front of his thoughts. “The elf apostate, Solas, he must know. You had us wait outside while you talked to him. That wasn’t the case with Varric and the Qunari…” He talked aloud. “But the elf was private.” His eyes shot up to meet hers. “What is he to you?”

“A mage whose main focus is the Fade,” Sael stilled. “A friend to spirit. I find his perception to be the safest.”

“That is an evasive answer and you know it.” Dorian pressed.

Sael shook her head. “And it’s all I am going to give you. The matter is personal. Not one for public debate.”

“This is hardly public.”

“Last question.”

“Very well.” Dorian paced about a bit. “What is the spirit of Tevinter like?”

“You’re sure there is one?”

“Has to be.” Dorian gestured to all of Sael. “You exist and thus there must be others similar. Orlais, Antiva, Tevinter come to mind right away.”

She stepped closer, he didn’t retreat. “Are you sure you want to know?” He nodded. “Very well.. Tevinter is an old spirit, never experienced our type of death. He looks like a human version of your buildings. He isn’t pleasant, very much out for his own gain and quick to break of use anyone to reach his goal.”

“...”

“I’m sorry that doesn’t sound like something you were expecting.” Sael put a hand on his shoulder.

“Can spirits change? Personality, temperament?”

“It can be done.” Sael tried to sound positive. “Though it can take a few hundred years to see it, and there must be enough belief to accomplish it in the first place. Outside influences may even alter them.”

“Thank you.” Dorian sighed. “It’s possible and that is enough for me right now. Come, we really must be back before the dirt stains my boots for eternity.”

“Then I won’t tell you about the deepstalker that peed on them a few minutes ago.”

Dorian groaned loudly, “That devilish grin on your face says otherwise. Now I’ll have to burn them”

Seal laughed, starting up the ladder. “We have Curios Dupont back at Haven. See what he can do.”

“Curio Dupont, the Dupont in Haven?” Dorian was surprised to say the least. “You have to kill someone in Minrathous to even see something of his collection in person back home.”

“Bill is the Inquisitions to pick up.” Sael snickered climbing back into daylight. “I’m hoping for a new outfit.”

“I’m going to bankrupt the Inquisition in that case.”

The tavern was more lively than it had been in a long while in Haven. The first rounds of drinking songs had come and gone. Iron Bull sat beside Sera and Blackwall. Arthur Cousland was at the other end of the tavern with Varric and Cassandra. Cullen, Josephine and Leliana were closer to the bard and fireplace. Solas was alone in the attic space watching the celebrations below. The chant for another song started again. Several Inquisition soldiers and Dorian shoved Sael toward a table, mead sloshed out of encouraging mugs for her to entertain the mass gathered. Lost for a second, a song she heard Sannek sing to cheer up his fellow Legion of the Dead dwarves came to mind. She cleared her throat, stamping out a beat with her heel and clapping to bring the rest in.

“The giant Redwood!” She cried out. “The larch, the fir!” She could see a good chunk of the crowd beginning to hum the tune. “The mighty scots pine! The smell of fresh cut timber.” She threw a pointed finger toward the wood stake walls outside the open tavern door. “The crash of mighty trees. With my best girl at my side!” She motioned Iron Bull to join her on the table. No goading was needed, he rushed up and threw an arm of Sael, bringing her tight to his side. “We’d sing! Sing! Sing!”

The pause only lasted a breath.

It started slowly, “I’m a lumberjack, and I’m okay. I sleep all night and I work all day!”

The crowd came back with a deafening echo. “He’s a lumberjack, and he’s okay! He sleeps all night and works all day!”

“I cut down trees, I eat my lunch!” Sael was scoped up into Iron Bull’s arms. He swung her side to side. “I go to the lavatory! On wednesday I go shopping and have buttered scones for tea!”

The crowd laughed, swaying together. Their drinks barely making it into their mouths. “He cuts down trees, eats his lunch! He goes to the lavatory! On wednesday he goes shopping and has buttered scones for tea!”

Everyone took to the chorus. “He’s a lumberjack, and he’s okay! He sleeps all night and works all day!”

Sael kicked and giggled in Bull’s arms. “I cut down trees, I skip and jump! I like to press wildflowers! I put on women’s clothes and hang around in bars!” The crowded roared a cheer to their tavern.

“He cut down trees, he skips and jumps! He likes to press wildflowers! He put on women’s clothes and hang around in bars!” No one faltered. Only happily making fools of themselves. “He’s a lumberjack, and he’s okay! He sleeps all night and works all day!”

Iron Bull was swinging her in circles now. Singing along with her. “I cut down trees, wear high heels, suspendisse, and a bra! I wish I had been a girlie, just like my dear papa!”

“He cuts down trees, wear high heels, suspendisse, and a bra! He wishes he had been a girlie, just like his dear papa!” The crowd shouted and roared in a delighted end! Cheering all around as the barkeep struggled to keep up with the refills.

Just as it started to settle, Iron Bull sang the last line in the most femine voice he could. “Oh Sael, I thought you were so manly!!” He let her fall at his feet on the table and ran off with a dramatic cry. Sael remained on the table, laughing with the rest, the first time in centuries since she had laughed till her body hurt.

The space was cramped. Dorian could hardly move as the man at his waist pulled his hips to the side. He chuckled and tried to remain still. A hand shot up his inseam, slowly pulling back down. Muttering as the other worked along Dorian’s legs. It had been a long time since Dorian had something like this done, the last time was back in Minrathous, and that man had been far too gentle in the process. Dorian felt a sharp pinch at his highest point of his hip.

“Maker, please, I’m delicate.” Dorian pleaded to Dupont.

“Monsieur s'il vous plaît,” Dupont pulled the needle from his mouth. “I can’t create if you keep complaining every time you get pricked.”

Dorian rolled his eyes and sighed with a smile. “I know the cost of perfection, do you think I wake up this glamorous?”

Dupont’s mask tilted. “Oh? I wouldn’t know, I’ve yet to see you in bed.” He chuckled. “Let alone the morning.”

An eyebrow rose. “You could count it a gift to do so.” Dorian tried not to show his delight in the fact that Curio Dupont may have just flirted at him. “Such a thing wouldn’t go unnoticed in a little town like this.”

Dupont went back to fixing the inseam of Dorian’s new pants. “Gossip is a free campaign. Make use of it or let it ruin you.” He magically altered the seam and sealed it into place. “This piece should help protect you better from a Templar’s blade, but against the ravages of the bedroom, I do not save people from carnal bliss.”

“Snails or oysters?” Dorian dropped the question like a toddler bringing their friend a mudpie to tea.

Dupont’s mask barely tilted upward. “I do not limit myself to a single menu.” His hands remained on Dorian’s pants cuff.

“Have you considered your… dinner for the evening?”

“Well, I am tempted by a fine feast of snails at this moment.” Dupont adjusted to kneel more comfortably at Dorian’s feet. “You, monsieur?”

Dorian risked a smack of Dupont’s yardstick and lowered his arms. “I can’t remember the last time I had a plate of Orlaisian snail.”

“I have heard legends about the ones of Tevinter. To be honest, I am rather hungry right now.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

Dupont rose and locked the door and snuffed the candle on his way back to Dorian. The Tevinter mage was already undoing the buckles and ties that held his to-be new outfit in place. Dupont roughly pushed up against Dorian, the two falling back onto Dupont’s work table. The new armor was going to have to be started from scratch again as Dupont clawed it off Dorian.


	20. Chapter 20

It went on much the same for the following weeks Cullen worked the recruits into shape for the coming event. The man barely slept between exercises and tests. Josephine had made herself busy with letters, diplomats and visiting royalty. Royalty in the sense that they were such a distant relation, the danger of a political side of visiting the Inquisition did not risk the rest’s reputation. One such duchess gave a stableboy advice on how to properly muck the stalls. It was a dramatic improvement. Leliana pushed her spies further and further out in search of any changes. Even the slightest reaction to the turn of events the Inquisition had taken with the mages. It had been generic reports since Fiona’s people arrived.

The Breach still raged over head. Rifts spawning all over Thedas. The Hinterlands, Stormcoast and the Fallow Mire had thankfully quieted down in time since Sael and her companions had come and gone. New recruits and those brave enough to join the most recent heretical movement were trickling in, though at the pace of a centuries old deadfall choking a forgotten river.

Finally, Cullen announced his approval of what army they had mustered. It was smaller than any before it. Condemned by the Chantry and still very skittish of it’s own shadow at this point. Cullen only approved after declaring the training similar to beating a dead horse.

The army gathered at the ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. The blast caught bodies still stood in their anguished stances. The rift still threw out bands of itself at the surrounding air. Once a grand temple, now a Fade twisted spit in the face of Andraste herself. Sael pushed her essence out to feel the roads beneath her. They churned with energy, hungry and eager to act upon her commands. Cassandra stood beside Sael. The spirit was turning her hand over and over, staring at the mark on her hand in hopes the rift they were going to seal would take the mark with it. Solas came up just past Cassandra. An intense and determined look on his face. Mages lined the pathways behind them. Soldiers readied themselves just at Sael’s back. Solas and Cassandra stepped back as Sael approached the rift. It was time.

“Mages.” Cassandra called for their attention.

Solas raised his staff, slowly directing it toward Sael. “Focus past the Herald! Let her will draw from you!”

The rift flared to life, like a cornered predator facing a hunter. Sael raised her hand to it. The mark burned in her hand, power began rushing through her unlike anything she felt before. Shard of glass and electricity boiling under her skin and through every nerve. It was dragging her to the rift. A cry from a mage, instinct raised his arms, staff horizontal above him. He rammed the butt against the ground and dropped to a knee. His own power and will flowed from him to Sael. All the mages followed suit. One after another, raised and kneeled. Sael fought to keep her feet on the ground. Her hand shot up and out to the rift, connection. She bite her lip to stifle a cry of pain as the mark and rift worked to finally close the first rift. Light grew from the rift and Sael’s mark. Brighter and brighter until it was blinding, at the point of torture, it erupted. Soldier, Mages, Sael and companions alike were thrown back.

Cassandra shook her head free of the ringing in her ears. She leapt to her feet to find Solas helping Sael onto her own. Cassandra pulled soldiers up, checking them before moving forward. Four more soldiers later, she came to stand with Sael. “You did it.” The cheer from all drowned out Sael’s appreciation to the Seeker, and the sweet praising words whispered from Solas against her ear.

Mages, drained, soldiers with lighter hearts and feet made the trek back to Haven. Joyous, confident and empowered they sang the whole way back. Sea shanties, drinking songs, and cadences old as Thedas itself. It was a merry return and an even warmer welcome from Haven.

Sael tugged Solas’s sleeve and leaned to talk privately in his ear. “This isn’t done, is it?”

He shook his head. “By no means, there is still the matter of the villain in this tale.” Solas looked grimly ahead. “This is not done. But telling anyone now will only cause harm.”

The Breach above was darker than before. Sael could barely stand to look at it. “No, I suppose it would.” She walked on, taking handshakes and congratulatory pats on the back as she made her way back into Haven.

By nightfall, all of Haven was celebrating. Ale, mead and every other alcohol under the sun flowed like water. Music played beside every fire, surrounded by pleased survivors. Boars pulled from the kitchen to roast on open spits. Fruit tossed between friends, mage and soldier alike. There wasn’t a trace of melancholy or dread to be found in all of Haven that night.

Sael stood alone, contemplating Solas’s words as they entered Haven. She didn’t hear the snow crunching behind her as Cassandra approached. The Seeker stopped beside her, looking out at the dancing and laughing people before them. “Solas confirms the heavens are scarred but calm. The Breach is sealed. We have reports of lingering rifts, and many questions remain, but this was a victory.” Sael only bore a smirk in the corner of her mouth. “Word of your heroism has spread.”

“I am hardly alone in this, without all who came to help.” Sael turned to face Cassandra. “You, you’ve put up so much with me. I know I haven’t been the easiest spirit to work with. I was just lucky this way.”

“The Deep Roads themselves are not a place one expects to find an easy journey.” Cassandra offered her hand. She smiled when Sael took it and they shook. “I haven’t been fair to you and there are things I wish I hadn’t said. The Maker never gives us more than we can handle and I am thankful for the road we took.” She looked back to the dancers. “A strange sort of luck, and I’m not sure if we need more or less of it. But you’re right. This is a victory of alliance. One of the few in recent memory.”

“I can only hope there are more to come.”

Cassandra nodded in agreement. “With the Breach closed, that alliance will need new focus.”

“I don’t think we’re don-”

Marching and the roar of chanting. The thunderous sounds of an army’s footfalls had cut Sael off. She looked past the walls and up into the nearby mountain foothills. Haven’s bells began to ring fiercely. Sael’s stomach dropped at the sight of thousands pricks of fire light begin dotting the mountainside. Cullen was heard running through the crowds calling everyone to the gates. Soldiers and mages santched up weapons and rushed after the commander. Citizens armed themselves with the first weapon they could grab. One had gone so far as to break apart a bench and rush into battlelines brandishing a board with several nasty crooked nails in it.

Cassandra paced a bit before running. Sheath gripped and sword partly drawn. “We must get to the gates!”

“Wait!” Sael rushed after her, she grabbed the Seeker’s arm. “Listen, we’re under attack, clearly. I want Blackwall and Sera getting civilians herded into the Chantry.” She grabbed a running scout. “You, tell Arthur to help Cullen on the front. I want Vivienne and Dorian leading and rounding up the mages.” She released the scout and Cassandra to quickly relay the orders. Sael ran to catch Varric loading his crossbow. “You’re with me.” He nodded once and finished preparing Bianca. “Solas!” She yelled as loud as she could, he appeared shortly, ready for battle. “Bull will likely be at the main gate with his men. We’ll either grab him there or settle with what we have. Stay with me.” The three took off toward the gate.

Cassandra arrived just as Sael and the others did. Iron Bull was there, he was beckoned over. Arthur watched the gate. “Cullen?” Cassandra implied a thousand and one questions in the tone of the commander’s name.

“One watchguard reporting. It’s a massive force.” Cullen gestured beyond the door. “The bulk over the mountain.”

Josephine, wax still cooling on the back of her hand and speckling her face. “Under what banner?” She asked, regaining her breath.

“None.”

That spun nearly everyone on their toes to look at Cullen like he spontaneously spouted a second head. “None?”

Sael felt a familiar presence on the other side of the gate. Light flashed beneath the gate, two monstrous thuds sounded against them in time with the flashes. “I can’t come in unless you open!” A young man’s voice pleaded. A soldier helped Sael push one of the gate doors open. A large, burly knight made two steps for the gate before he was cut down. The bodies of six strange Templars lay dead in a circle already. A single meek looking man with an extremely wide brimmed hat stood straight, blood dripping from his blades. Sael and Cullen rushed out to meet him. “I’m Cole. I came to warn you. To help.” He stammered on. “People are coming to hurt you. You probably already know.”

“What’s happening.” Sael stepped back from his outstretched fingers. “Explain.”

“The Templars come to kill you.”

Cullen nearly lunged toward them. Cole jumped back a bit. “Templars!? Is this the Order’s response to our talks with the mages? Attacking blindly.” He didn’t believe the man.

Cole answered Cullen first. “The Red Templars went to the Elder One.” He turned to Sael. “You know him? He knows you. You took his mages.” Cole stood abnormally close for a stranger. “There.” He pointed up to a cliff that overlooked the march and Haven. 

A single man in crystal accentuated armor and a deathly complexion for what Sael could tell. The towering monster of a creature that walked up beside the Red Commander was familiar to Sael. She couldn’t place where but he had been in the Deep Roads at one point in her existence. He was thin and misshapen as a vein of lyrium. Skin stretched and anchored along his ribs, clawed hands, and black robes with wide shoulders. His face thin and distorted around growths of red lyrium from his head.

Cullen could only manage a haunted whisper. “I know that man… but this Elder One…”

Cole put his arms out and carefully backed Cullen and Sael back toward the gate. “He’s very angry you took his mages.”

“Cullen” Sael sounded anxious. “Give me a plan! Anything!”

He wouldn’t take his eyes off the Elder One and his commander. “Haven is no fortress. If we are to withstand this monster, we must control the battle.” He finally looked to Sael. “Get out there and hit that force.” He nodded toward the trebuchet near them. “Use everything you can.”

Sael gathered her companions and made for the siege weapon. Cullen drew his sword, “Mages! You-you have sanction to engage them!” He addressed the gathering army at his back. “That is Samson. He will not make it easy.” He paced up and down the line. “Inquisition! With the Herald!” He brandished his sword, the army cheering behind him. “For your lives! For us all!”

The trebuchet was being attacked by Red Templars. Inquisition soldiers fought, keeping them from destroying it. They called out for help so that the loaders could prepare to fire a volley. Sael was more than happy to compile. As easy as breathing she summoned the roads to spear two Red Templars that rushed at her. Rocks and stones were called to create her bracers. She slammed jagged pointed into each new opponent. The rocks shooting through to skewer them through.

Iron Bull cackled and roared curses in Qunlat at the Red Templars. His giant two headed axe cleaving through exposed necks. Limbs unprotected by armor were lopped off with a flick of the axe. A Red Templar attempted to charge him as his head was lowered. They quickly discovered that Iron Bull’s horns were as deadly as his weapon, finding their head ripped from their body.

Varric skittered the fighting, firing Bianca at full speed. Littering several charging Red Templars with bolts from head to toe. He vanished just to appear at the back of a Red Templar and fire explosive bolts at them. A bruiser took an explosive bolt to the mouth, he didn’t have time to react before his head popped.

Solas churned out barrier after barrier to protect his comrades. His staff twirling through the air, all consuming spikes of ice trapping Red Templars that were nearly lucky enough to hit Sael, Varric or Iron Bull. He danced through the battle, dodging the emboldened that attempted to attack him. Ice mine traps tracing his path, exploding and catching enemies.

Finally the trebuchet fired. Fires were cropping up everywhere in Haven now. The Red Templars tossing torches in their wake hoping to flush out any potential victims. The loaders assured Sael that they could handle things now that the Red Templars first and second wave had passed. The twisted gnarled bodies with red lyrium jutting from them lay strewn about the field as testament to Sael and her companions. There was no time to remain at the first trebuchet any longer, they needed to check on the other. Sael and the others took off, running down the path leading to it. Doors open everywhere she could see. Blackwall and Sera must have gotten everyone out. There was some relief found in that. Along the way were more Red Templars blocking their path. FIghting was unavoidable, those left alive would surely not be so merciful to anyone they found.

The second trebuchet was unused, no loaders or soldiers to guard it. The Red Templars that had began to gather were cleared out as quickly as they could. Sael ran up the steps and grabbed the handle to crank the trebuchet into ready position. Iron Bull and the others moved to guard her from the next wave of Red Templars. Sael cranked as fast as she could, kneeling beside the massive frame to use it like a shield from archers. She shouted out for Iron Bull to quickly push one of the boulders into the sling. It barely thudding into position before she pulled the lever for the release. Iron Bull’s head cleared the sling and boulder by the hair on his face. The boulder soared through the air, colliding with the side of the mountain on the left. An avalanche rumbled at the crater before cascading down the side to engulf the attacking forces just beyond Haven. Cheering rang out as Red Templars were buried beneath mountain snows.

It was abruptly silenced by something tearing through the sky with a thunderous peal. The trebuchet was blown to splinters in a blast of fire. A black mutated dragon crossed over Haven. Sael ordered everyone back to the gate. They ran, dodging fireballs and reaching Red Templars. They didn’t stop until they were past the gates that Cullen and some soldiers hauled shut. 

The commander started up the stairs past Sael, speaking to all that could hear him. “We need everyone back to the Chantry! It’s the only building that might hold against… that beast!” He stopped halfway up to look at Sael. He looked as angry as he was defeated. Cullen spoke to Sael. “At this point… just make them work for it.”

Inside Haven was no different than it was by the trebuchets. Dead towns people were found alongside soldiers of both armies. Sael ran up the stairs. Her cabin was consumed in fire up ahead, so was nearly every other building. There was no way to douse the flames, all they could do was as Cullen ordered. Get to the Chantry. Solas’s barriers bounced Red Templar’s attacks. Iron Bull rammed against anyone who couldn’t be brushed off. His shoulder and horns enough to make short work of them. He led them right to the Chantry doors.

Chantry doors opened as if on queue. Cole and chancellor Roderick stepped out. Roderick holding his stomach with one arm, waving people inside with a free bloody hand. “Move! Keep going!” He croaked painfully. “The Chantry is your shelter.” Sael and her party were the last ones in. Roderick collapsed into Cole’s arms.

Cole gently pulled Roderick’s arm over his shoulders. “He tried to stop a Templar. The blade went deep. He’s going to die.” Roderick called him charming.

Sael dashed over and helped Cole set Roderick into a chair. “Old fool, you were against us.” Roderick gave her a soft smile. “I’m sorry, I was so cruel to you.”

Roderick could only pat her face, leaving blood as his hand fell away. She left the chancellor to Cole and stood to survey the situation. Wounded and exhausted flew where they stopped in the Chantry. Leliana and Josphine struggled to maintain any order with Mother Giselle.

Cullen came running to her. “Herald! Our position is not good. That dragon stole back any time you might have earned us.”

“I’ve seen an archdemon.” Cole spoke, kneeling beside Roderick. “I was in the Fade, but it looked like that.” Against popular belief, tension in the hall rocketed.

“I don’t care what it looked like.” Cullen snapped sharply. “It’s cut a path for that army. They’ll kill everyone in Haven.”

Cole was unaffected by Cullen’s tone. “The Elder One doesn’t care about the village. He only wants the Herald.”

“Why?” Even knowing there was more to come, it didn’t change the fact it was nerve wrecking.

“I don’t know.” Cole lowered his head, covering his face from the others with his hat brim. “He’s too loud. It hurts to hear him.” Lifting again to stare impassively at Sael. “He wants to kill you. No one else matters, but he’ll crush them, kill them anyway.” Cole sighed. “I don’t like him.”

Cullen waved off Cole. “Herald, there are no tactics to make this survivable.” He bite his thumb, the leather cushioning and comforting. “The only thing that slowed them down was that avalanche.” He processed his thought a bit more. “We could turn the remaining trebuchet, cause one last slide.”

“We’re overrun.” Sael started.

Iron Bull grunted in annoyance. “To hit the enemy, we have to bury Haven.” He started checking his potions, gear and axe for the next attack.

Varric shook his head. “Roads, there isn’t a boring day with you is there?” He smiled up at Sael, trying his best to look aloof and confident.

“It’s a hail-Andraste-pass.” Solas summed up. He was tired. Internally he was frantically trying to think of a plan that didn’t involve his or Sael’s death. The longer it took the more he paled.

“We’re dying.” Cullen coldly stated. “But… we can decide how. Many don’t get that choice.”

“Yes, that.” Cole turned with Roderick just at the corner of Sael’s vision. “Chancellor Roderick can help. He wants to say it before he dies.”

Sael quickly came over to him. Roderick cleared his throat. “There is a path. You wouldn’t know it unless you made the summer pilgrimage, as I have.” He gasped for breath, Sael took his hand and squeezed it. “The people can escape. She must have shown me.” He groaned as he stood from the chair. “Andraste must have shown me so I could… tell you.”

“Cullen?”

“Possibly.” Cullen fought to swallow his pride along with this overwhelming defeat into a retreat. “If he shows us the path. But what of your escape.”

Sael said nothing. She forced herself to look at her companions. Iron Bull was the very picture of confidence in her, though his eyes masked a very real fear. Varric was biting his lip, studying a pebble at his foot. He had seen so many die, he struggled adding another face to haunt his memories. Solas’s face barely managed to hide his heart breaking.

“Perhaps you will surprise it, find a way…” Cullen put what hope he could into those around him. He gripped Sael’s shoulder a moment before turning to the wounded and those remaining. “Inquisition, follow Chancellor Roderick through the Chantry! Move!” He snapped the order out. Everyone began moving.

Cole shouldered Roderick again. “Herald,” He stopped Sael. “If you’re meant for this, if the Inquisition is meant for this, I pray for you.” She gave him her best smile she had to offer.

Cullen returned to Sael, soldiers rushing out of the Chantry ahead of her. “They’ll load the trebuchet. Keep the Elder One’s attention until we’re above the tree line.” Sael started for the door. “If we are to have a chance- if you are to have a chance- let that thing hear you.” Cullen headed off with the retreat.

Solas, Varric and Iron Bull remained around Sael. She stopped short of the doors. “No, not this time guys.”

“I didn’t sign up to watch my employer die.” Iron Bull shot back.

“Your employer is the Inquisition.” Sael shook her head. “I’m not have three of the best die with me. It’s insane.”

Varric shook his head, chuckling. “That’s our choice to make, Roads.” He reloaded Bianca. “Besides, you know you’ll need us.”

Solas was cut off by Sael. “Not you, most of all, not you. I watched you die in front of me once already, do not ask me to do that again when I know I can save you.”

“Ain’t happen, boss.”

“Boss.” Sael echoed back hollowly. “Iron Bull, as the agent of the Inquisition that hired you, on that authority… I am ordering you to take Solas and Varric and secure the retreat.”

“Boss!”

“It’s an order, Bull.” Sael pressed her back against the door. “Likely my last. Keep them safe.” She slipped out the door and slammed it shut behind her. With a kick of her heel she barred the Chantry door with a wall of stone spikes. She tried to not hear the angry and panicked hollering behind them. “Live.” She whispered the plea before running for the trebuchet.

Red Templars blocked her way to the remaining trebuchet. It’s arm was out of sight and could only mean it was armed and ready to fire. There was no holding back, this task was likely to be a suicide mission. She needed to draw as much attention to herself as possible. She hoped it was easier than it sounded. She dropped to her knees in the dirt and dug her hands into the burnt and bloody soil. Twisted away the ground exploded with hundreds of spikes, the center clear. It seemed to work as every Red Templar she could see turned toward her. She banished the ones in her path, summoning the stones to propel her forward on a wave of dirt and rock. Sael killed only two thirds of the Red Templars she came across, she needed some to follow her and draw the Elder One’s attention.

At the trebuchet, she launched herself over a group of Red Templars and at the crank to turn the siege weapon. No one guard her and no one to worry about, she called forth a wall to guard her as she turned the platforms wheel. Slowly the trebuchet moved round. Red Templars came rushing toward her. She called on her magic with he foot and heel, spikes skewering heads and hearts. So far, she had been successful in working the platform and defending herself. Only problem, she was becoming more exhausted with every spell. She wasn’t going to be able to keep up this pace.

The ground shook. Sael uncorked a health potion and let the bottle hang from between her lips as she turned to see a red lyrium behemoth shambling toward her with a giant clubbing fist made of the same lyrium. She quickly tossed her head back, still turning, and chugged the potion. A second wind kicked in, he body knitting wounds closed and bashing back exhaustion. A stone spike was rammed between the wheels pegs, insuring it wouldn't unwind while she dealt with the behemoth.

She rolled under the fist that was raised to crush her. Her spikes only breaking off shards of the red lyrium. The behemoth staggering into the new direction it was shoved into. It let loose a guttural roar, swinging wildly with its fist. It managed to clip her ankle, dropping Sael into the dirt. She thrust her hand into the ground, a massive spike pit opened up under her attacker. It wobbled it, trying to catch itself. There was nothing the behemoth could do but fall backward onto the thousands of thick jagged spikes below it. Sael didn’t take time to treat her ankle, but bolted for the wheel. She banished the spike and caught the wheel before it could begin to unwind. 

Sael felt the platform lock into place, just in time to see the dragon circle above her before swooping down to unleash a stream of fire behind her as she ran out of the way. Something managed to explode, throwing Sael several feet away from the trebuchet. She tried to ease the ringing in her head. An impossibly slender figure slowly walked out of the flames towards her. She jumped to her feet as she saw him. The dragon landing seconds later further behind her, stalking towards Sael.

“Enough.” The man growled, calling the dragon off from attacking Sael. “Pretender, you toy with forced beyond your ken, no more.”

Even this close she couldn’t make her memory of him any clearer beyond it simply being there. Anger prickled at neck for it. She stole a quick glance at the dragon before returning focus on the twisted man. “The hell is your issue with me? What is all of this for?!”

He sneered at her. “Mortals beg for truths they cannot have. It is beyond what you are. What I was. Know me, know what you have pretended to be. Exalt the Elder One. The will that is Corypheus.”

Sael spit toward him. “And arrogance blinds you to my truth. I don’t need to know you, to know that you’re just a seven foot tall walking bag of shit and broken shiny rocks from someone’s cat box.”

“You will kneel.” Corypheus growled, raising a long bladed finger at Sael.

“I’d sooner shit in my hands and clap.” Sael hissed, moving slowly to try and get the dragon out from behind her.

Corypheus mirrored her movements. “I ask for nothing. For it isn’t in your power to give. But that will not stop me.” He held up a foci, an orb with lines like ridges on a fingertip. “I am here for the anchor. The process of removing it begins now.” He thrust his other arm at her. His magic and the mark on Sael’s hand connected. It felt like the Breach all over again. Nothing she did could stop her arm from lifting up at his will. “It is your fault ‘Herald’. You interrupted a ritual years in the planning, and instead of dying, you stole its purpose.”

Magic resurged through the connection. Sael felt her body and spirit trying to seperate, to escape the pain. “I do not know how you survived. But what marks you as ‘touched’, what you flail at rifts, I crafted to assault the very heavens.” He clenched his fist and the pain dropped Sael to curl on the ground, clutching her arm. The dragon hissed behind her. “And you used the anchor to undo all my work. The gall!”

Sael rolled onto her knees. She chuckled. “Gall or balls, I’m not sure I heard you well enough.” She trembled a bit. “If it’s balls, maybe we can find you a nice willing drunk guy…” Sael turner her head to see Corypheus’ face. “Really, really drunk guy to pass the time with you.”

Corypheus stormed over, kicked Sael over and yanked her into the air by her marked hand. “I once breached the Fade in the name of another, to serve the old gods of the empire, in person. I found only chaos and corruption. Dead whispers.” He lifted her to his face. “For a thousand years I was confused. No more. I have gathered the will to return under no name but my own. To champion withered Tevinter and correct this blighted world.” He tilted his head. “Beg that I succeed, for I have seen the throne of the gods, and it was empty.” Corypheus threw Sael over hand into the frame of the trebuchet. She sank down it painfully. “The anchor is permanent. You have spoiled it with your stumbling.” The dragon crept behind Corypheus as he lectured on.

A sword lay beside Sael. Any weapon was better than none at this point. She grabbed it up and climbed to her feet, sword pointed at Corypheus.

“So be it. I will begin again, find another way to give this world the nation- and god- it requires.” In the distance behind Corypheus, past the trees of the valley, a blazing arrow arched high. “And you. I will not suffer even an unknowing rival. You must die.”

“You talk way too much.” Sael kicked the release lever, launching the trebuchet’s sling. 

The boulder hurling toward the mountain that once protected the back of Haven. Corypheus and the dragon turned and looked up to see the avalanche forming to come and devour the Haven. Sael took off running as fast as her legs could carry her. There was no way she could outrun the mountain’s snow. The dragon’s angry roar thankfully came from far behind her. Whiteout soon consumed everything around Sael, leaping off a ledge the force of the snow crashing into her back violently shoved her down a hole and into darkness.


	21. Chapter 21

It took Iron Bull, Varric, Blackwall and Arthur to restrain Solas from scaling the walls and leaping out the collapsing roof. He was lean, thin and as average looking in power as any other mage. Still the other men struggled, hauling him every inch toward the passage Roderick had passed through. It wasn’t until Vivienne rushed over and magically bidded Solas into a dreamless sleep. Finally the elvhen mage slumped heavy into Iron Bulls arms and was carried through the mountain pass. The retreat was a desperate rush away from Haven. From the fires and Red Templars hungry for blood. Cullen stood by as Sera launched a flaming arrow into the snow flurries overhead. Those who heard it’s shrill whistle through the air stopped to watch grimly as it arched into the distance, towards a now abandoned Haven. Cullen tried to grab hold of the scrapes of hope he offered before. It was long gone, well before he saw the shape of the trebuchet’s boulder slammed into the mountain target and spark Haven’s destruction.

A droplet of freezing cold water pricked the tip of Sael’s nose. She wrinkled her nose and made the first attempt at rolling over. The pain was blinding even behind closed eyes. Sael stopped, propped up only by an elbow before the body she crafted launched a series of livid protest. She took a moment to breath, suddenly spurred by a new surge of pain in her marked hand and the equally sudden approach of shades from all around. The mark pulsed and seized violently beneath her skin. It exploded outward, blasting the shades back into the formless fragments they came from. She collapsed again atop frozen misshapen ground, heaving breaths till the pain subsided. A tunnel laid ahead, a dim light and rushing winds came through. She felt her body shudder even though the spirit within the husk was unaffected.

A blizzard raged in the wake of the avalanche and a storm that came trailing in afterward. Standing on the last vestige of manmade planks, Sael could see nothing beyond several feet in front of her. She could barely feel the presence of the Deep Roads beneath her as the avalanche had forced her even further from them. Wind mercilessly ripped across the plains of new snow, tops of trees peaked out from the depths. Tiny slivers of ice wielded by the wind shattered across exposed skin and thin fabric. Too weak to use magic and unable to remain in the newly formed caves, Sael was left with no other option than to venture into the blizzard as she was. She shielded her face from the brunt of the winds, slowly pressing her way through the storm. The sky above veiled the night sky and moons above. She didn’t know how long it was until she first fainted into the snow.

She awoke to find the storm no less weaker than when she blacked out. Sael was blanketed by snow building up over her body. Though the spirit of the Deep Roads was willing, the body was barely able to react to any demand made of it. Sheer willpower brought her back to her feet, legs stiffly cutting into the hip deep snow. Numbness and cold had passed, hardness began to take their place as the body was pushed beyond its limits. She stumbled face first into the snow more times than she would ever be willing to admit. Her stomach was threatening her, indifferent to the fact there was likely to be nothing to vomit in the first place. She pressed on, halting only at the distant sounds of a wolf’s howl. She waited, nearly giving up before a second howl answered followed quickly by a third. Sael thought of Solas, it wasn’t beyond his scope of power to command wolves and dogs. How much of his cover was he risking calling on kindred spirits and beast to search the storm for her. The whiteout began to give way, trees appearing in the distance as flickering silhouettes beneath glimmering dots that could only be stars. Past a cold fire pit, sleep snatched her consciousness from her again.

There was no memory of waking up. Her mind became clear again when she realized the blizzard had ceased it’s rampage some countless hours ago. Dancing lights of snowflakes reflecting the sister moons bobbed across her vision. There was no longer an avalanche covered mountain hill rising before her. Just the night sky and a peaceful looking winter landscape. Boulders stood between her and a wide crevice bleeding the sounds of life into the persistence silence. It was no longer the spirit of the Deep Roads that willed her body forward. The inability to do anything else did. She could feel her spirit-self splitting off from the body, a ghostly transparent upper body hovering over the shoulders. Gripping her body’s shoulders trying to haul it the last several feet into the arms of help and survival. Dawn’s gold trimmed blue sky began to expand over the distant mountains as a voice crashed against Sael.

Sael let her body collapse into the snow, her spirit sinking to lay across her own back. There was nothing left in her to move again. Cullen’s voice broke out of the quiet. “...there she is!” Cassandra was heard barreling through snow praising the Maker for Sael’s survival. Blackness consumed all of Sael.

Haven’s survivors had gathered at the mouth of a mountain pass. Despair gripped the occupants like a slaver’s collar. Through the thick, black abyss of Sael’s mind, a voice came through. Faded and distant. “What you have me tell them? This isn’t what we asked them to do!” Cullen.

“We cannot simply ignore this!” Cassandra bellowed back. “We must find a way!”

Sael opened her eyes, a tent littered with holes stretched out above her. A cot and tough blankets waded beneath her. “And who put you in charge?” The venom in Cullen’s voice was the clearest thing in the world right now. “We need a consensus, or we have nothing.”

Sitting up on the elbow with the least amount of pain, she saw the advisors and Cassandra on the other side of a small bonfire. Each after the other’s throats. “Please, we must use reason!” Josephine pleaded. “Without the infrastructure of the Inquisition, we’re hobbled.”

Cullen hissed. “That can’t come from nowhere!”

“She didn’t say it could!”

“Enough!” Sael half expected to draw her sword on the others to reign in their obvious panic and anger. “This is getting us nowhere!”

“Well, we’re agreed on that much!”

A much closer and softer voice let out a quiet gasp. Mother Giselle shushed Sael and urged her to lay back. “You need to rest.”

“They’ve been at it for hours.” Sael didn’t bother to wipe the displeased look off her face. “I didn’t have to be awake to know that.”

“They have that luxury, thanks to you.” Mother Giselle smirked. “The enemy could not follow, and your… condition extended our stay regardless. With time to doubt, we turn to blame. In fighting may threaten as much as Corypheus.”

Sael groaned as quietly as she could while righting herself up to sit on the cot’s edge. “No one else is planning on pulling these children out of their panic, I will.”

“Another heated voice won’t help.” Mother Giselle sat up straighter, ready to catch or block Sael. “Even yours. Perhaps especially yours.”

Sael scanned the camp, plenty of faces she recognized. Even Lily, the kitchen servant acting in secret for Sael and Solas. Sael nodded when their eyes met. The elf woman dashed off to find Solas. “... Last thing I remember, I...I was a sight only described in horror stories for children and Templar recruits.”

Mother Giselle fell silent for a moment. It was true, the Herald of Andraste was carried into a tent, a visible spirit dangling from the body everyone was familiar with. The Chantry Mother listened to whispered gossip and thankfully found most attributed Sael’s survival to the spirit of Andraste herself carrying Sael through the blizzard and back to her chosen believers. Others kept mutterings about abominations and blood magic mostly between themselves. Iron Bull and Sera had reacted worse than anyone else. The two still refused to come anywhere near the tent. Iron Bull had at least managed to come back around to begin asking for news on Sael. Sera on the other hand had offered several times to put Sael out of her misery.

Magical attempts to heal Sael failed at first, rebounded often like they did on those who died in her arms. There was no soul in the body, half of hung outside, lolling to one side ever so slowly being pulled back in. Mother Giselle fought all of instincts to not recoil in horror or fear but help in anyway she could. Sael was barely laid down in the tent before Solas had come barreling in to offer his assistance. Dorian a shortways after him. Mother Giselle decided against tackling the topic with Sael for the moment.

“Our leaders struggle because what we survivors have witnessed.” Mother Giselle spoke softly, watching Sael closely. “We saw our defender stand… and fall.” Sael flinched. “...and now we have seen her return. Regardless, the condition, returned all the same. The more our enemy is beyond us, the more miraculous your actions appear.” She didn’t take offense to the curt glare that rose and fell. “And the more our trials seem ordained.” Sael grunted. Mother Giselle smiled. “That is hard to accept, no? What ‘we’ have been called to endure? What ‘we’ perhaps , must come to believe?”

“Mother Giselle, I am not gifted by Andraste, much less the Maker. I am the Deep Roads and I cannot even explain how I ended up in this mess.” Sael explained, sitting back carefully testing her legs to see if they would support her. “Now all the Maker-fearing masses of Haven have seen my true self near destruction. How do you think they’ll take that?”

“You might find the faithful more comfortable with your true natural than you expect of them.” Mother Giselle didn’t stop Sael as she rose from the cot. Considering an answer as Sael took several wobbly steps toward a support pole.

Sael looked out at the survivors. Making it out of a one sided attack like they had would eventually be written down as a victory in history’s eye. For now, there were no victors, only the broken, desperate and beaten trudging along the makeshift paths between tents. There was no more life in the people there than Sael had when she collapsed into the snow the final time. Lost in the abysmal state they were left in.

“Shadows fall,” Mother Giselle’s song began from behind Sael. It cut through the night’s mood like a searing knife. “And hope has fled. Steel your heart. The Dawn will come.” She lingered by Sael one a brief moment before stepping past. “The Night is young. And the Path is dark. Look to the sky.” The people began to stir. “For one day soon. The dawn will come.”

Leliana’s voice was the first to join the Chantry Mother. “The shepherd’s lost. And his home is far. Keep to the stars.” Soldiers and tradesmen joined. “The dawn will come. The night is long. And the Path is dark.” Cullen entered as the people began to gather slowly making their way towards Sael. “Look to the sky. For one day soon. The dawn will come.” They knelt before her. Sael barely managed not to turn and run in the overwhelming display. “Bare your blade. And raise it high. Stand your ground. The dawn will come. The night is long. And the path is dark. Look to the sky.” Sael looked across the crowd singing, stopping on Solas at the edges of the camp, silent and watchful. “For one day soon. The dawn will come.”

Mother Giselle waited until the people began to leave, blessedly in better shape than when they arrived. “Faith may yet to have found you, but it already found them.”

Solas had barely grabbed hold of Sael’s sleeve and tugged before Mother Giselle had gotten out of ear shot. “A word?” He hurried off, Sael behind him.

They walked out of the camp and to the furthest torch placed. Solas curled his hand over, fire leaping forth in the torch at his gesture. He hovered near it and waited for Sael to join him. “The human’s have not raised one of our people so high for ages beyond counting. Her faith is hard-won, ma’falon, worthy of pride.”

“Given the circumstances of my return from what was surely to be my death, and this is what you want to talk about?” Sael raised an eyebrow and smirk to assure him of her teasing. “If this what you want to talk about, there is a problem, that orb Corypheus is using. It’s elvish.”

Solas shook his head, chuckling. “You’re right, this is not the conversation I want to have, but there is less to be said on this matter than the other. It’s also less enjoyable.” His face darkened a bit. “Yes, not just elvish, it’s mine. He used the orb to open the Breach. Unlocking it must have caused the explosion that destroyed the conclave.”

“Did you know when I was first seen by you? The mark.” Sael opened and closed her marked hand.

“I had no confirmation, but yes, there weren't many other options besides that.” Solas tossed an apologetic glance at the mark. “We must find out how he survived...And” He looked over his shoulder toward the camp “prepare for their reaction. When they learn the orb is of our people…” He tailed off.

“That burning bridge is miles down the path.” Sael moved closer to Solas, shoulder to shoulder. “We’ll cross it when we get there. Right now, I just want relish seeing you again.”

Solas twisted his arm behind her and slipped it through to weave his fingers into hers. “Such a brazen display with the faithful so close.” He tried to control his joy. His voice barely above a whisper. “I was sure I was going to lose you.”

“I’m too stubborn to die. I wasn’t worried.”

“Liar.” He smirked weakly.

“Fair enough,” she squeezed his hand. “Crazy hound, how close did you come to ruining your cover? I heard the wolves, the look on your face at the Chantry.”

Solas chuckled quietly. “They had to knock me unconscious, I fought every inch they dragged me. I was...wasn’t prepared to let you go.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Promise me something, ma’falon.” Solas turned his head to look at Sael’s attentive face. “Don’t make me worry like that again.”

“I promise.” They remained by the torch for a short time longer. In silence just basking in each others presence.

Solas advised her north through the Frostback mountains. It was eight days and nights of travel until they came to find a castle fortress nestled in the mountains. A place that could house the Inquisition as it expanded and became the force it needed to become in order to fight Corypheus. The giant castle was built into the mountain, the bridge crossing over to connect a peak and the castle. It’s grey walls stood tall, blending into the mountains surrounding it. Skyhold.

Inquisition decided to forego camping that night. The citizens of Haven and the soldiers both wanted to be behind the ramparts walls, safe in the fortress that had stood the tests of time. People busied themselves unloading and tending to the wounded. The next morning was reserved for business.

Cassandra beckoned Sael over. “They arrive daily from every settlement in the region. Skyhold is becoming a pilgrimage.” She took a few backward steps, drawing Sael to follow. “If word has reached these people, it will have reached the Elder One. We have the walls and numbers to put up a fight here, but the threat is beyond what we had anticipated.” They climbed the stairs leading to the next level of Skyhold, across the tavern. “But we now know what allowed you to stand against Corypheus, what drew him to you.”

“The man just wants my hand.” Sael shook her head. “Even after I offered to shit in it.” Cassandra didn’t ask for an explanation, only twisted her face in disgusted horror at the thought.

“... The Anchor has power, but it’s not why you’re still standing here.” Cassandra went on. “Even as a spirit, your decisions let us heal the sky. Determination brought us out of Haven.” They walked on, coming toward the next set of stairs, past the gathering of people who stopped to watch the Seeker and Herald. “You are the creatures rival because of what you did. And we know it.” Climbing the stairs again, Leliana came into view piously holding a sword across her hands. “All of us.”

Sael felt the snarky comments crash against her closed mouth. Now wasn’t an appropriate time for cruel sarcasm. “...”

“The Inquisition requires a leader: the one who has already been leading it.” People and soldiers gathered around the staircase. Cullen and Josephine standing among them. “You.”

“Did everyone lose their minds back at Haven?” Sael whispered harshly, stare fixed on the sword in Leliana’s hands. “I am a spirit. The spirit of the very place that gives all of Thedas nightmares and you want me to lead?”

“It doesn’t matter what you are anymore.” Cassandra huffed once. “They want you, spirit or not. It doesn’t change who you are and what you have done for us all since you woke up.” Sael shifted a bit. “What kind of leader you become, holy or monstrous, is up to you.”

“Spent so much time caring about my roads and only my roads, it’s time I started lending the same love to those around me. The Deep Roads will stand with you all and lead as you ask me to.” Sael gripped the sword by its hilt and raised it from Leliana’s hands.

“Wherever you lead us.” Cassandra walked to the edge and called down to the advisors below. “Have our people been told?”

Josephine stood proudly. “They have and soon the world.”

“Commander, will they follow?”

Cullen turned on his heels and paced with vigor before the soldiers. “Inquisition: will you follow?” He shouted to them. The answering cheer was eager, hungry and loud. “Will you fight? Will we triumph?” drawing his sword and pointing it towards Sael. “Your leader! Your Herald! Your spirit! Your Inquisitor!” Sael raising the new sword in response earned her a deafening roar approval from the people.

Advisors and Sael shoved open the monolithic doors of Skyhold throne room. The inside was in a pitiful state of disrepair. Animals, lost travelers and bandits had clearly made the fortress their home from time to time. Threadbare carpets and tapestries. Broken statues and furniture littered the main hall. They walked further, twisting around and around to take in the sights.

“So this is where it begins.” Cullen spoke more to himself in awe than the others.

Leliana shook her head, chuckling. “It began in the courtyard. This is where we turn that promise into action.”

“But what do we do?” Josephine was the last inside. “We know nothing about this Corypheus except that he wanted your mark.”

“Right now, we know we have an eight foot tall foreskin stretched over evil red rocks that has a quirk about collection green glowing hands. Yes.” Sael watered down the fear factor of Corypheus. “He expected to simply crush us, take it back, and move on. We’ve given him reason to pause. We have to take advantage of that first.”

“The dragon?” Cullen pawed at his mantle.

“A really big lizard with the plague.” Sael offered. “But no darkspawn running crazier than usual. Five Blights and which one started with the Archdemon causing havoc alone, let alone before the horde.”

Leliana cleared her throat. “No matter what Corypheus has over us, we have something more important. We know his next move, Empress Celene.”

“Imagine the chaos her death would cause.” Josephine nearly shook. “With his army-”

“An army he’ll bolster with a massive force of demons, or so the future tells us.” Cullen cut in.

“Corypheus could conquer the entire south of Thedas, god or no god.”

Leliana sighed heavily. “I’d feel better if we knew more about what we were dealing with.”

“I know someone who could help with that.” Varric made he way toward them. Careful picking his steps over fallen beams. “Everyone acting all inspirational jogged my memory, so I sent a message to an old friend.” Everyone turned to face Varric. “She’s crossed paths with Corypheus before, and may know more about what she’s doing. She can help.”

“Ohh Varric, my sneaky boy.” Sael smirked, hands coming to rest on her hips.

“Parading around might cause a fuss.” Varric looked over his shoulder, looking for someone. Happy with whatever he or didn’t see turned back. “It’s better to meet privately. On the battlements.” He started walking backwards, hands up. “Trust me, it’s complicated.”

Leliana clicked her tongue. “I know one thing: if Varric has brought who I think he has, Cassandra is going to kill him.”

“I’m not sure she’d let Cassandra have the pleasure.” Sael waved the group goodbye as she headed back out into Skyhold’s courtyard. “Let me know when Varric says she’s here.”


	22. Chapter 22

With taking up residence in Skyhold came an influx of requests from all over Thedas. Sael found the war room, but stopped Josephine before she could summon the advisors. She wasn’t ready or eager to deal with the new duties of being Inquisitor. All she wanted was to find food, which was going to have to be dried jerky and bread as the kitchen wasn’t prepared. The forge was beginning to get set up and some workers were already toiling away with setting up Sael’s private room. She walked through the fortress to see where everyone was settling in.

Vivienne had taken the loft over the main hall’s doors. She was giving instructions to a servant about the placement of a pair of opulent chairs. Her books being unloaded along a wall, left for her to sort them at her will. A settee acted as a spare chair as well a bed from her. She gave her final order and walked out onto the balcony to observe the Inquisition’s people settle in.

At the highest point in Skyhold, Leliana had claimed the attic space of a tower. Her ravens fluttered in and out of the windows carrying messages. The spymaster had turned it into an aviary as well as a nerve center for the Inquisition”s spy network. Nearby but clearly apart from her work was a cabinet where a personal shrine was being arranged for Andraste.

Skyhold already housed a large collections of books. The ones that survived Haven were being added to it. Dorian had dragged the most comfortable and fashionably acceptable chair in Skyhold into an alcove. He picked through books on a nearby shelf. Grumbling quietly to himself about the titles available and the lack of ones he wanted.

Below Dorian in the rotunda on the main floor level was Solas. He had taken a couch for a bed, table and chair at the center of the room. A wood scaffold was pushed up against the wall with paints and brushes in a bucket hanging off the ladder. The table was already overflowing with papers and open books. Extra powders for paint took a small corner. He looked up at Sael as she passed by. They exchanged warm smiles before she continued on. He knew they’d talk soon, he tried to refocus on his project and not about where he planned on taking her.

Outside Sael looked to the furthest end of Skyhold, the barn. Blackwall had taken residence there alongside the horses that were saved from Haven’s fires. Even with Dennet there, Sael was pleased that Blackwall was nearby. The man had taken a liking to the horses and often helped in feeding and maintaining the gear. Rumor was that Dennet and Blackwall had become late night drinking buddies. Arthur on the other hand made his way to the kitchen and lurked nearby, always looking for a bit of food to snatch from maids and cooks.

Opposite was the tavern. Cassandra had already taken up the second floor loft in the additional blacksmiths. Sael had refrained from looking in for herself as it felt like a gross intrusion on the Seeker. Still, Cassandra spent the larger portion of the day training with the dummies set up behind the tavern. Soldiers came to her when they were either feeling brave or simply wanting to test their skills against Cassandra.

Inside the tavern was the remaining companions. Iron Bull was at the back behind the free standing fireplace, the only stairs leading up between him and the fire. The tavern was already filling up with patrons, some just looking for a chair to call home, others in search of a bottle to bury the past few weeks into. Iron Bull’s second in command found one across from the foot of the stairs. For some reason he was standing in the chair, drinking as if nothing was wrong. Sael chalked it up to an appreciation for height.

Second floor housed Sera. Seal was unable to see inside. The moment Sera saw her coming around the corner, the door was slammed shut and locked. A knock was answered with slurred threats about a spirit can still take a boot up the ass. Sael didn’t push it. The attic was empty but the air up there felt like it was already claimed. She headed back out and noticed Cullen at the bottom of the lowest level of stairs.

The man she met at Haven, Cole, was seated in the dirt at the bottom of the stairs. Sael felt a sense of familiarity with him. Vivienne, Cassandra and Solas had gathered together. A heated discussion was ongoing.

“This isn’t some stray puppy you can make into a pet. It has no business being here.” Vivienne leveled a cold glare at Solas.

“Wouldn’t you say the same of an apostate?” Solas answered just as coldly. He caught sight of Sael approaching. “Perhaps you’d like to reexamine your position here as the Inquisitor is a spirit herself.”

Vivienne’s look hardened into daggers aimed at the elf.

Cassandra was first to acknowledge Sael. “Inquisitor, I wondered if Cole is by chance a mage. Given his unusual abilities.”

“He can cause people to forget him,” Solas jumped in quickly to explain. “Or even fail to notice him entirely. These are not the abilities of a mage.”

Sael looked at the other women’s faces. Stoic nervousness and pure annoyance. She glanced at Cole before turning back. “It’s things spirits can do. Some, not all. I can’t for one and I am older than the Divine age.”

“It is a demon.” Vivienne protested in a dark tone.

Solas’s face flickered with disgust. “If you prefer, although the truth is somewhat more complex. It seems he’s very similar to our Inquisitor in nature.”

Sael sighed, a hand raising to sit on her hip a moment. “Vivienne, we had the same issue when you found out what I was. Now here we are again with another.”

“I can’t trust that all demons are as well behaved as you are, my dear.” Vivienne smiled, it wasn’t mimicked in her eyes, just a mask for her real feelings.

“What I can do is tell you whether he is a spirit or a mage. Since I am one and can do the other, will you trust my judgement on that? All of you?” Sael blanketed Solas in to cover her bias.

A nod from both women.

Sael returned the gesture and turned to speak to Cole. “He was just here, where did he run off to now?”

Cassandra suddenly sputtered into a choking fit of laughter. She covered her mouth and turned away from the others, frantically waving off concern. She recovered after a long moment. She faced them again, her laughter trailing off into a sigh. “Forgive me, Inquisitor, I-I suddenly saw myself in your question.”

“...” Sael didn’t catch the meaning right away. It clicked sharply. “Oh, oh I see. Alright, yes I pulled several vanishing acts on you. This is karma for that.” She laughed, head shaking. “Fuck my life, I should’ve expected this.” She turned and spotted Cole among the injured beside the stairs. “Be right back.”

“Haven. So many soldiers fought to protect the pilgrims so they could escape.” Cole started as Sael drew near. He looked to a soldier. “Choking fear, can’t think from the medicine but the cuts wrack me with every heartbeat. Hot white pain, everything burns. I can’t, I can’t, I’m going to… I’m dying, I’m…” The soldier he watched gently seized up and slumped into a deathly still pile. “Dead.”

“You’re feeling their pain.” Sael stared at the corpse with Cole. Solas was right, a spirit, but which one. “I can’t hear them.”

“It’s louder this close, with so many of them.” Cole picked at his fingers and gloves. “You aren’t meant to hear them, it’s not your task. So bright, but also dark, deep with no end or age. Winding and guiding if only one knows the paths. Hewn from your mother’s bones but,” Cole finally met her eyes. “Why do you have pain? Why can I feel your pain? We are kin, but not alike.”

“Compassion.” Sael softened before Cole. “You sweet, kindly spirit...Why am I not surprised it one of your kind here.” Sael took Cole’s hand, weaving fingers together and standing a touch apart. Cole didn’t flinch or shy from the older spirit. “I’ve been here so long, I’m no longer...untainted.”

“I see. It’s good though, I feel joy and love in your heart too.” Cole perked up a bit. “I can help here.” His eyes dimmed a bit. “Every breath slower. Like lying in a warm bath. Sliding away. Smell of my daughter’s hair when I kiss her goodnight.” Cole pulled Sael over to another soldier. “Gone.” He turned to another. “Cracked brown pain, dry, scraping, thirsty.” He offered the soldier a cup of water. “Here.” He received a raspy thank you. “It’s alright. She won’t remember me.”

“You’re welcome here Cole,” Sael heard Vivienne grunt in disapproval distantly behind her. “It dark and trying times, compassion is easily overlooked. I would rather you stay with us.”

“Yes, helping. I help the hurt, the helpless, there’s someone,” Cole drifted again, twisting as he looked for something. “Hurts, it hurts, it hurts, someone make it stop hurting. Maker, please... “ Cole drew a dagger from his back, his hat lowered to cover all of his face. “The healers have done all they can. It will take hours for him to die.” Sael looked at the stiffly wriggling man at Cole’s feet. “Every moment will be agony. He wants mercy. Help.”

Sael considered what Cole wordlessly asked permission for. How many times she heard those exact words, begging, in the Deep Roads from victims of Darkspawn. How long she listened to their bloody garbled final words. “Help him.”

Cole knelt down and whispered comforting words before expertly thrusting the dagger into the man’s heart. He was dead before Cole even lowered his head back to the ground. Cole stood. “I want to stay.”

Solas came up from behind Sael. “Another spirit joins the ranks of the Inquisition.” He joked. “The Chantry must be burning.”

“Not unless Anders managed to get close enough to a Chantry without getting caught.” Sael snickered under her breath as Cole went to make himself comfortable in the tavern’s attic space. “Still, they’ll be taking pitchforks in the next charity drive, I’m sure. Have a moment to talk?”

Solas smiled, the corner of his eyes lifting. “Your place or mine?”

Arthur finally was chased out of the kitchen after snatching a small basket of green apples for himself. He ended up milling around the grounds of Skyhold until he caught sight of Blackwall looking up at the battlement walls. Arthur smirked and passed the apple basket to a passing soldier. He crept quietly up behind Blackwall. The darker hair Grey Warden didn’t bolt.

“So this is Skyhold.” Blackwall took a deep breath. He turned to speak directly at who he believed was Sael. “Come, I wan-” He paled at the sight of Arthur.

“It’s me again.” Arthur smirked. He reached out to block Blackwall from hurrying away. “Oh no, we need to talk. The ramparts is private enough.” Both Wardens made their way up. They found a secluded spot between the established patrols. It would be a little while before a soldier would be returning. “How would you like to do this?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow and turned to face the mountain landscape. “Can you tell me about that time we fought the darkspawn, back to back. Yet you came out with the Silverite Wings and I got stuck mucking the stalls that night?”

“...”

“I know, and I’m not too fond of liars. Give me a reason, a good one, and I’ll consider what happens next.” Arthur’s voice became cold, a knife poised to strike. But he waited to give Blackwall a chance.

“He was saving me.” Blackwall cracked. He leaned forward and gripped the stone of the wall. He knew there was no way he could keep up the facade under the full attention of a Grey Warden. “Recruited me, to make me better than I was.”

Arthur kept still, listening, his voice level and empty. “Did you kill him?”

“No.” Blackwall shook his head. “I traded his death and carried on a good man’s work. I didn’t think the world deserved to lose another hero.”

“...” Arthur was as still as a statue for a long moment. Seconds crept by like hours. Finally he took in a loud breath. “I will keep this to myself. So long you keep honoring my friend. Sully his name, even just once, I will drag everything into the light. Is that clear?”

Blackwall nodded. “Why help me?”

“My friend wanted you for the Wardens, he thought you were worth saving back then. It would be a shame to ruin that since you decided to keep wish alive.” Arthur grabbed Blackwall’s shoulder, shaking it in support. “Living as a Warden isn’t far from being one.”

“Now we have a darkspawn Magister to kill,” Arthur lightened the mood. “All they need is a couple of Grey Wardens.”

“We lost soldiers that day, loyal men and women.” Blackwall answered back. “Let Corypheus come. I swear I’ll take the twisted bastard down, even if I have to die doing it.”

“Blackwall,” Arthur gave a mischievous smile. “You know, we Wardens are supposed to kill more than a single darkspawn before we die. Every Warden averages thousands.”

He chuckled, “Right and how much is a archdemon worth?”

“An arm and a leg just for the cover charge alone. Killing one? Find me another who survived that and I’ll give you some average.”

Blackwall laughed heartily with Arthur, the first time he felt he could relax a bit. He sighed. “Look, in spite of it all, there is hope. The people flock to the Inquisitors banner. They believe in her. Spirit or not, she has your support as well.”

“Even though she’s a spirit?” Arthur prodded.

“Does it really matter? What they need her to be is Andraste’s matter, that gives them hope. Otherwise they’d be lost in despair.”

Arthur nodded quietly in agreement. “She could bring the roads to the surface and they’d still drap her in Andraste’s robes. You’re right. Let the people have their belief, so long it keeps them going.” Arthur stood straight, patted Blackwalls shoulder and started down the stairs. Blackwall remained a time longer, alone with his thoughts and relief.

Sael was walking through the main hall with Solas when a messenger ran up to her. The look on her face fell from joy to annoyance. He barely caught his breath, the reason for his interruption coming through between gulps of air. Apparently, Varric sent the man to find her as his friend finally arrived. Sael took a deep breath, swallowing her anger. She excused herself and went to the ramparts mentioned in the message.

Varric stood in view of the steps leading into Skyhold. Sael joined him, sitting her butt on the ramparts wall. She looked up to see a familiar pair coming down the steps from a tower behind them.

“Hawke!” Sael leapt from the wall and crashed into the Champion of Kirkwall. “Oh you beautiful bitch! You’re here!” She looked over Hawke’s shoulder to see Fenris, his hair cut differently than before. Still the same brooding face though. “Fenris, it’s good to see you again as well.” Sael didn’t embrace the warrior elf, the last time they had been in each other’s presence he was trying to tear her heart out thinking she was a mage turned amboniation.

“Sael, it’s been too long.” Hawke pulled the spirit back into a hug. The woman wriggled in place enjoying their reunion. “I got Varric’s letter. Honestly, he sent more than he needed to. Had he just mentioned you were here, I’d have taken a shortcut through the Fade to get here faster.”

Fenris grunted. “Fen’Asha, you know I won’t go near the Fade. There isn’t enough liquor in Thedas to convince me.” He gave her a private smirk before turning to Sael. “It has been a long time. I see you haven’t changed.”

“Still no heart.” Sael winked at the monochromatically dressed elf. She looked to Varric and once more over herself and the other two elves. “Varric, do you have a secret thing for elves or do you just happen to attract us?”

“Add Chuckles and I would have a full spectrum of personalities up here.” Varric pointed to each elf. “Brooding, trigger-happy, scary, and recluse.”

Hawke scratched her head. “Recluse, that can be whoever Chuckles is or Fenris.” She smiled at him. “Business,” She clapped her hands. “So Varric’s note was extremely vague for a writer. What’s happening that he summoned me here?”

“Corypheus.” Sael dropped the name, it was welcomed as much as a pile of waste at a dinner party. “He’s causing trouble and tried to kill me over a glowing hand.” She held the hand up as evidence.

“We fought and killed him.” Hawke crossed her arms. Fenris sat against the wall, Hawke seeing moved to sit against his thighs. “Bastard was manipulating Wardens from in his cell by means of their connection to the darkspawn.”

Varric entered the conversation. “Corypheus got into their head, messed with their minds. Turned them against each other.”

Hawke nodded. Ignored Fenris forcing her to shift so his legs could get blood circulating again. “If the Wardens have disappeared, they could have fallen under his control again.”

“... That’s a big if, honey.” Sael’s shoulders sank. She took the wall adjacent to Hawke and Fenris.

Fenris groaned as Hawke moved back where he pushed her from. “... It’s possible. We need to know more first.”

“I’ve got a friend in the Wardens.” Hawke added. “He was investigating something unrelated for me. Stroud, last we spoke he was worried about corruption in the ranks. Since then, nothing.”

“Corypheus would certainly qualify as corruption in the ranks.” Varric looked grim. “Did you friend disappear with them?”

“No.” Hawke was finally pushed off Fenris’s lap. He rubbed his legs painfully, moving aside to sit next to where she fell back. “He told me he was hiding in an old smuggler’s cave near Crestwood.”

Sael threw here hands up and grinned. “Well I’ll take what I can get.”

“I thought we killed him before. This time I’ll make sure of it.”

Sael agreed. “Oh we’ll set him on fire this time. But if you’ll excuse me, I have a date with an elf and a bed.”

Hawke grinned ear to ear. Fenris besider her flinched, his face snapped up to look at Sael in shock and confusion. “No you do not. Hawke is hard enough to handle, I am not about to add another.”

“Easy, Broody, no matter how much of a snack you look like, I don’t steal other people’s food.” Sael tipped her head to Hawke.

“That’s right.” Hawke winked at Sael, still smiling. “We’ve shared my food before, once is enough.”

Varric groaned in disgust. “You all need Andraste, filthy people.” He started down the stairs laughing. “I’m going to find a place to hide.”

“Hide?” Fenris stood, hand reaching for his sword.

Sael waved him off. “No, Pumpkin, no one needs to die here. I’ll keep him safe. He’s just avoiding our local Seeker of Truth.”

Hawke and Fenris both made a fearful face and quickly followed after Varric. Sael chose to trail after the three. It was a blissful feeling having two more old friends join her. They ran across the courtyard and down into the prison beneath Skyhold. Down among the cells they found a waterfall and many empty cells. One occupied by Alexius. Sael glared at the broken man and herded Hawke and the others to a vacant portion of the prison. Hawke sat roughly and fished in her bag, looking for something. Fenris reached in his own and produced a deck of cards to Hawke. The Champion of Kirkwall shook the deck, with a sly grin she offered to play Wicked Grace. Sael agreed, darting back up the stairs to have a passing soldier bring Arthur to them.

“If we’re going to play, we are going to have all of us.” Sael took a seat on the other side of Fenris, Varric beside her. “Champion of Kirkwall, famed author, legendary Tevinter slaver killer, and…” she mimicked a drum roll on the floor, “The hero of Ferelden to boot.”

“Arthur Cousland?” Hawke was surprised. “That makes this a game of true upper echelon of Thedas. I think we should make this more interesting.”

“You’re going to lose again.” Fenris smiled darkly at Hawke. “I still have my prize from last time.”

Varric flinched. “Maker’s balls, are we playing that Wicked Grace.”

“Which one?” Sael asked as Arthur arrived and sat among the other. Hawke clutched the deck in her hand. “Fen’Asha, what are you scheming?”

“As cliche as you can possibly get with a group and Wicked Grace.” Hawke began to deal the cards. “Strip Wicked Grace.”

Fenris looked grimly at his hand. “This is going to be a disaster. It is everytime we play with others.”

“Look, just because we had one game and you had to sit next to Sebastien naked, doesn’t mean it’ll happen every time.” Hawke flicked his last card at him. He caught it between his fingers.

Arthur stretched before scoping his cards up. “Hawke, you’re a legendary card shark in the Hanged Man. Prepare to lose you small clothes to a true champion.” He mocked playfully.

Sael snickered behind her hand. Varric wiggled a warning finger in the air as he examined his hand. “Careful, Slick, I’d hate to see you do the walk of shame. I know I won’t be so unlucky.”

“I wouldn’t.” Sael rearranged her cards. “No cheat?”

Hawke had a glint in her eye. “It’s only cheating if you get caught.” The players all eyed each other before placing their first bets.

Cassandra looked away from the training dummy to see a group gathering, and growing, in front of the prison doorway. It was nearly dark and there wasn’t any sign of people leaving. She sheathed her sword and made her way over. Pushing past the first wall of soldiers and staff, she found she had to fight down the steps. Cheers and cries could be heard from below. Numbers and claims were being thrown back and forth. Cassandra thought she was crazy the first time she heard Sael’s voice. The third time there was no mistake. The Seeker broke through unexpectedly, falling to the prison floor. She was in a clearing of the mass of people. In the center, in front of her, was Varric, Sael, the Hero of Ferelden, along with Hawke and her lover. Each in varying stages of nakedness. Varric glowering in nothing but a boot to cover his privates.

Cassandra was frozen, she couldn’t look away at the uncouth display in front of her. She barely managed to form a sentence. “Do I want to know?”

“Do you play Wicked Grace?” Hawke asked.

“No?”

Hawke shrugged. “Then be quiet. It’s down to the Inquisitors shirt or Fenris’s pants.”

The two elves stared hard at each other for a long tense moment. The ring of spectators held their breath as both threw their hands on the floor.

Sael: A straight.

Fenris: Three of a kind, Drakes. He lost.

An exuberant cheer broke out among the women. Dupont in the mob almost swooned with Dorian. Fenris stood and begrudgingly dropped his pants, leaving the elf warrior in his small clothes. Hawke and Sael were holding each other up laughing and cheering with the others.

Cassandra scrambled, running over to Seal. “Inquisitor this is deplorable behavior!”

Sael groaned. “No, this is fun behavior and keeps me on the level with our people.”

Hawke leaned over. “I’m calling it a night for now. This has been fun but I have a man in a foul mood and he’s unbearable like that.”

With that the group announced the end of the game. Slowly the crowd dispersed. Cassandra followed Sael out, tearing into her ear with a lecture about being a model for the faithful. Varric tried to snatch his clothes back but Arthur grabbed them up and handed them to Hawke. Varric had no other choice than to run after Hawke and Fenris fleeing back up the stairs. Arthur remained, sitting on the broken platform over the waterfall with his basket of apples and only a missing shirt.


	23. Chapter 23

Varric stood with one of the apprentice blacksmiths with a bolt in hand. He was going over alterations he wanted done the forging process. He had been noticing the bolts were consistently off their mark, even if by a hair, it could be a hairs length between life and death. He hadn’t heard anyone approach behind him, all he knew was suddenly being spun on his feet and herded back toward the stares. He was face to chest with a livid Cassandra, the one person he had hoped to avoid longer than several hours. He made the mistake of not knowing ahead of time where she bedded for the evening.

She ranted and gesture wildly at him as she continued to herd him up the stairs. At the top, she shoved him into the railing. She came back at him again, hands gripping his shoulders. “You knew where Hawke was all along!”

Finally realizing what the rage was about he shoved her arms off him. “You’re damn right I do!”

“You conniving little shit!” She hissed, a haymaker from her right swung over his head as he ducked.

Varric darted behind her and scrambled to put a table between them. “You kidnapped me! You interrogated me! What did you expect?!”

“I expected you to tell the truth!” Cassandra bellowed back. She visibly began to lose steam. “I told you what was at stake!”

He threw his hands up. One remaining to point an angry finger at her. “So I’d just hand her over on your say so?” He mock mimed assuring Hawke. “It’s okay, Hawke! This zealot isn’t crazy!”

Cassandra flipped the table between them, growling in frustration and rage.

“I didn’t know you! You were just some religious crazy woman, with a sword!” Varric defended. He was quickly searching for a way down the stairs. Cassandra groaned and half-collapsed onto a nearby chair. Varric watched her for any sign of attack.

“We...We needed someone to lead the Inquisition.” Cassandra cooled a bit. Anger still flickering at the edge of her tone. “First, Leliana and I searched for the Hero of Ferelden, but he vanished.”

“Currently accounted for.” His addition earned him a scathing glare.

Cassandra shook her head. “Then we looked for Hawke, but she was gone, too. We thought it all connected, but no.” The forge’s fire light only darkened her tone. “It was just you. You kept her from us.”

Varric threw an arm out toward the window. “The Inquisition has a leader!”

She sat up straight in a flash. “Hawke would have been at the conclave! If anyone could have saved Most Holy…” He face flashed desperation.

“You can’t change the past, Cassandra.” Varric spoke softly. “Not you, Sparkles, Chuckles or Roads herself can. That is with the Maker.”

Cassandra sighed heavily. She was quiet for a long moment. “So I must accept … What?” Her voice nearly faltered. How badly she wanted a way to turn back the events. “That the Maker wanted all of this to happen? That he, that he-”

“The Maker never gives us more than what we can handle, Seeker.” Varric knew it was a weak explanation but he knew that Cassandra was reacting to the situation. He knew she wasn’t seeing the bigger picture from his perspective.

“Even after,” Cassandra sounded cold again. “When we needed Hawke most, you kept him a secret.”

“She’s with us now.” Varric steeled himself a bit. “We’re on the same side!”

Cassandra’s gaze found him in the corner of her eye. “We all know who’s side you’re on, Varric.” Her eyes narrowed. “Go, Varric. Just...go.” She returned to look at the floor.

“That’s a cheap shot and you know it.” Varric felt his insides liquify, his face remaining stoic. “You know what I think.” He stopped at the top of the stairs. “If Hawke had been at the temple, she’d be dead, too.” He matched Cassandra’s earlier venom. “You people have done enough to her.”

Cassandra waited till she heard the blacksmith’s door close. She curled in on herself in the chair. “I should have been smarter, I should have been more careful. I don’t deserve to be here.” She blamed herself, adding another stone to the weight already on her back.

“...” Varric silently stepped away and left the blacksmiths. “You belong, Seeker. Raving bitch or not, you belong here.” He muttered to himself back to the table he claimed in the throne room.

Solas sat in his chair in the rotunda. He had been reading a tome when his thoughts began to wander in age old memories. Skyhold slowly fell away to lush green forest and water clear than any glass. The feeling of the Fade flowing around him rather than the distant writhing cry. Solas settled deeper into his chair and let the memory consume him. An arrow zipped past his face.

“Think faster than that, Solas.” Misaki chuckled darkly. “I would hate for my sister to see that face of yours marred.”

Solas pushed his fingers across his brow only to bring back a thin line of blood at the tips. “You have either grown more bold or more lazy, Misaki.” He held out the fingers to let the elf woman some forty yards downwind. “I won’t be covering for you when Sayuri finds out.”

Misaki was a slender archer, golden locks haphazardly bound at the back of her head. Visible bits of hair singed at the ends thanks to a sabotaging wind and her own fire magic. She jogged the distance to Solas, patiently waiting for her.

Solas, younger and impatient. She expertly vaulted up the small cliff hanging over the creak to stand next to him. “Burnt hair,” he raised a loose bunch with his hand and smirked. “Looks like you’ve been lazy. What will Mythal think?”

“You abandoned your evanuris for the first pretty face to cross your path.” Misaki flicked her head to pull the hair free.

“Did you think it was yours? Hard to tell with twins.” Solas clicked his tongue. No matter whether she was right or not about the evanuris, he wasn’t about to tell her. “Ambitious.”

Misaki wrinkled her nose at him, “Mar solas ena mar din.” She hissed.

“Neither pride nor battle will claim me.” Solas looked out to see another approaching. Misaki’s sister. “Oh, but I would gladly lay down my life between a pair of nimble legs.” He punctuated with a wink at Misaki.

“Ma banal las halamshir var vhen.” Misaki had to keep from stabbing an arrow into Solas’s neck right where he stood.

Sayuri stood at the front of the cliff beneath Misaki and Solas. “Vhenan, I found the most beautiful auroras near Mythal’s alter. Come!” 

She was shaped similarly to Misaki. Sayuri had hair the color of flowing dark chocolate. It was rare he saw it in daylight, usually he had his face buried in it at the back of her neck. It was a… nice change. “Vir, da’len, a moment.”

“Solas.” Sayuri pleaded for him to hurry.

“Solas.” Sael voice crept in. “Solas!”

The elf mage’s eyes snapped open to see Sael standing in front of him. He leaned forward, rubbing a palm to his face. A finger grazing over a scar between his eyebrows. “Yes, I’m sorry. Lost in thought.”

“Good ones?” Sael sat on the edge of the table, careful of the tomes and parchments.

“Of people I wronged and thought nothing of it.” Solas shook his head. He looked up at Sael, her face twisted with concern. “It’s a conversation for another time. Did you enjoy your game?”

Sael let it go. “Of course. Old friends and people losing clothing. Always makes for an interesting night. Bets were placed on us after a while.”

“A childish antic.” Solas smirked. Sael was a spirit that savored the mortal existence. A rare sentiment among her kind.

“How much did you lose?”

“I won twenty gold.”

“Now who’s childish?” Sael giggled quietly. “Do you have time to talk?”

Solas stood from his chair, a quick glance at the upper levels to see how many were in fact pretending not be eavesdropping on their talk. Nearly all of them. Dorian leaning over the edge, unashamed of the intrusion. Solas looked back to Sael. “Yes, but somewhere more interesting than here.”

He gently took her by the arm and guided her back out of the rotunda and toward the freshly finished quarters made for her. They talked a moment at the desk about the extent the staff had gone to refurbish the room. Next thing Sael knew she was in Haven walking just behind Solas.

“You were never going to wake up.” Solas began. “How could you, for what I thought was a mortal sent physically through the Fade. I was frustrated.” He stopped just before Leliana’s tent. “Frightened. The spirits I might have consulted had been driven away by the Breach.”

Sael flashed a coy smile at him. “Mortal, you flatter me.”

“Although I wished to help, I had no faith in Cassandra...or she in me.” Solas smiled, head shaking. “My magic, that anchor rooted to your very essence and I had no viable way to explain why I knew what I knew. I was ready to flee.” Sael’s look soured, he held up a finger in a request to just accept for the time.

“Solas, you stayed.” Sael walked a bit further with him in the snow flurries. The Breach looming above. “With extremely little reason beyond curiosity.”

“True.” He nodded. “I told myself: one more attempt to seal the rift.” He lifted a hand toward the Breach. “I tried and failed. No ordinary magic would affect them and after seeing the mark on your hand, I knew none would to begin with.”

Sael snorted once. “Couldn’t tell Cassandra that. Or Leliana and Cullen for that matter.”

He only flashed an agreeing smile for a second. “I watched the rift expand and grow, resigned myself to flee, and then-”

In a second and for less than one, they were back at the first rift Sael sealed. His hand wrapped around her wrist.

“It seems you hold the key to our salvation. You still can choose whom you end up saving in the end.” Solas smirked as he walked back to Sael. “You sealed it with a gesture. No knowledge of my magic or my orb… and right then...”

“Solas, if you’re having doubts about my being on board with your plans.” Sael started to get nervous. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m still-”

“No, it’s,” Solas took a breath, the words weighed in him as he tried to put them in a way that meant what he truly felt. “Right then, I felt the whole world change.”

Sael covered her mouth with a hand, her face was a turbulent mix of shock and delight. “The whole world? Solas, do you mean what I am hearing? You said ‘felt’.”

“You change...everything.” Solas took a step back. He swore he would never hurt another. Not like this. His own message from the future halted his retreat.

“Spirit charmer.” Sael prodded him. He turned away. Sael reached over and turned his chin back and bring him into a kiss. Not the soft, teasing, secret kisses from before. Passion, a hungry invitation. She felt nothing Sael stepped back. Before she could turn away, Solas pulled her back into an equally starved kiss.

They remained, each testing the other with boldness. The other unfailing to match the act. Solas’s mouth opened more to taste Sael’s groaning as he pulled back to breath and consider himself a moment. He dove into another kiss before the look of questioning disapproval could set on her face. Arms wrapped around each other, Sael’s search for the first barrier of clothing between them to remove it. He groaned again, pushing her back to stand an arm's length from him

“We shouldn’t.” Solas hated himself for saying it. “It’s not right. I’ve involved you into my schemes. This would be asking too much of you. Even here.”

Sael growled quietly. “Solas, don’t think for one moment I don’t know that this is the Fade. Much less, I am being tricked into sex with you. Several thousand years old and I know damn well what I am doing.”

“Sannek, your child.” Solas paced a moment. There was nothing more that he wanted to do than tear into Sael. Conflicted, he wanted to do better by her. “I don’t want you to suffer knowing all of plan is likely going to end in death.”

“My child?” Sael froze. “Solas…”

“I saw.” He confessed. “I had to know and I am sorry for not telling you sooner.”

“So you choose when we’re just getting hot and heavy to tell me?” Sael spun slowly in place. She took a deep breath. “I can’t fault you for wanting answers I didn’t give. Does it make you think less of me? A mother who didn’t raise her own child?”

“No.” Solas answered, still and waiting.

“This is the Fade. Do you know how to let your soul be free? Not this mortal form?” She looked him over. He nodded. “Let go, if only this once. Drop the reigns and let your soul act instead of overthinking it. I don’t hate you for prying and honestly, I have been waiting for this since Haven.”

Solas fought a moment longer. He sighed, letting a white and black light consume his form. It expanded and grew into an ambiguous pulsing aurora streaked with dancing bands of red light. It swirled in place above where he had stood, dwarfing Haven’s Chantry.

Grey light spilled over Sael. Gleaming dots of silver and blue bobbed throughout her growing shape. The light throbbing to the drum of an eager heartbeat. Sael’s aurora grew to match Solas.

The two souls remained long enough to gauge each other. Sael’s suddenly came to a point and dove to the lower portion of Solas. He bent to dive the back of Sael’s energy. Colliding, sparks erupted when they met. Bouncing off each other only coming back together in a spiral against the other. Bands seeping into each other, moving along unseen channels to elect a response. Sael’s essence arched backward, coiling backward as Solas’s bands of red wrapped around her mass. Tightening and dragging along the grey aurora drew a wake of crackling electricity, shudders and long moans. Solas’s soul nearly doubling with every pulse of emotion and energy from Sael. Expansion was met with expansion, Sael’s own reacting to Solas. Haven shuddered around the melding spirits as the two approached an explosive climax. Black, white and red erupted, spilling and nearly consuming the grey aurora. Sael’s energy poured into Solas’s essence, tainting the once two toned soul. 

Both energies slowly shrank, sinking to the ground below. Elvhen forms coming back into being. Naked, Solas beneath Sael layed on the frozen dirt. Neither tried to talk between laboured breaths for a long time. Relishing each other’s skin against their own. Solas mustered enough energy to raise a hand and trace aimless lines along Sael’s back. Painfully she eventually slide herself off of him to reposition to lay across him more comfortably.

“So, what are your thoughts now?” Sael asked in a whisper.

Solas chuckled, “I think you make a persuasive argument and I would have been a fool not to have listened.”

“Is there a next time open to negotiations?” She ran a finger along the tendons of his neck, down and across his collar bone.

“Next time we’ll have to do this in the Waking world.” Solas tilted his chin back a bit to give her a more defined path.

Sael stretched her body a top his. “Ohhhh… I like the sound of that.”

“You won’t like the sound of this.” He eyed her darkly. He didn’t give her a chance to question. “...Wake up.”

Sael shot up in bed with a sharp gasp. Panting, she looked around to see she was indeed in her bedroom. She tossed back the sheets and swung her legs around to get out of the bed. Something odd stopped her, looking down she noticed her pants were wet and the sheets where she slept. Sael got up and covered herself with a blanket and bolted or the door. Just outside her door into the throne room was a soldier. She ordered her, from now on, chambermaid Lily be found and sent to Sael’s room. Sael barely got on clean clothes when Lily came up the stairs. Bedding was collected and a silence on questions put in place about why brand new sheets and barely worn clothes needed to be washed immediately. 

Making her way back to the rotunda, Sael found Solas laid out on his couch. A knee raised and the opposite ankle draped over it. Sael took a seat on the floor beside him. “I can’t remember the last time I went with the old school route.”

Solas opened one eye to peer at her. A pleased smile on his face. “It’s an acquired taste.” She smiled back, reaching out to cup his face and rub her thumb against his cheek. He leaned into it. They parted without another word, pleased and sated for the time being.

Above them came a mischievous chuckle. Sael looked up to see Dorian watching them intently along side with Dupont. Past Solas was an open doorway that had the stairs leading up to the snickering pair. Sael made her way up, masking the exhaustion she found on each step.

“Alright, what’s with the devilish grinning for up here?”

“It’s always a sight to behold to see friends...come...together in these trying times.” Dorian perked an eyebrow up. “It’s hard to find nowadays.”

“Dorian, please tell me you aren’t going to bury me under a series of bad puns.” Sael smirked, head shaking as she walked over to steal his chair. It was damningly comfortable.

Dorian shrugged. “I would think our local Fade mage took care of bury anything.”

Sael groaned in disgust.

“Maker, it couldn't have been that bad.”

“It wasn’t! It was fanta-” Sael clamped her mouth shut. “Oh Maker damn you, slick shit.”

Dorian laughed loudly. “Too late for that, but I seem to have caught you at a good time.” She groaned again, muttering curses on herself. “Honestly, I expected better out of you. Letting the secret slip so quickly.”

“My brain is out for the moment.”

Dupont cooed. “Good enough for amnesia, I’m jealous.”

Sael stood before the chair would claim her for sleep. “Nope, not ready for this. You two can be foul together. I am going to sleep, it has been a long,” She saw the looks of mischief on their faces, “but blissful day.” Dorian offered to help her walk when she stumbled away from the chair. They laughed and parted on a promise for juicy details when she felt up to it.

Sael vanished back down the stairs. Dupont elbowed Dorian. “You don’t give me amnesia.” He chuckled.

“No.” Dorian scoffed. “I give you lessons on contortion.”

“An underrated pastime.”


	24. Chapter 24

Sael made her way out of the rotunda. Solas didn’t react, he remained on his couch, sleeping with a smile on his face. One formed on hers as well. Not two steps out the door and she saw Varric, leaning onto his table, a hard look on his face as he stared into the nearby fireplace. Flagging down a passing servant, she managed to get some details of what caused Varric to sulk. Sael ventured a step closer and quickly slipped into the unused chair.

“Are you all right?” Sael pushed a half full mug of mead toward Varric. “I heard things got a little hairy while I was talking to Solas.” She scoffed through a grin. “Hairy is hardly a fair word, what thick tangled mess can even come close to comparing to your chest chair.”

Varric slouched further. All the tension in his body releasing. “Roads...my life flashed before my eyes and here I am trying to make sense of it all and you’re coming at me with chest hair jokes.”

“Was it knotty of me?”

He snorted. “Maker’s balls, Roads put some better..” Varric finally looked over at Sael. He smiled, ear to ear. “You’re glowing. I see Chuckles finally caved.”

“Oh no, mister man, we are not turning this into a conversation about me.” Sael sat back, fingers steepled together. “What happened with Cassandra? I heard she attacked you over the whole situation with you two and Hawke. Are you fearing for your life?”

“Depends on how mad Cassandra is.” Varric stood, table scraping loudly as it was shoved aside.. “I wasn’t trying to keep secrets. I told the Inquisition everything that seemed important at the time.”

Sael kicked her feet up. “Varric, I know you, you did good and I didn’t tell them anything about Hawke either, not that they asked.”

Varric scoffed. “You are the secret friend that unless you were there, no one else knows about you.”

“Thank for that,” Sael nodded. “Keeping me unnamed in your stories.”

He nodded back. “I keep hoping… none of this is real. That maybe it’s all some bullshit from the Fade, and it’ll just disappear. I know I need to do better. I’m sorry.”

Sael sat forward. “Varric Tethras, don’t you dare apologize to me for doing the exact thing I would have. You’re a saint in my book.” She smiled, grabbing and squeezing his hand.

“A heretic through and through.” Varric chuckled. “Now Corypheus is back… shit.”

“Dead once before, can be killed again.”

Varric shook his head. “We didn’t just think Corypheus was dead. He was dead. No pulse! Full of stab wounds!” Varric poked all over his torso to emphasize the amount of stabs. “There wasn’t a lot of room for doubt. Fenris pissed on him and he didn’t so much as raise a hand or close his mouth.”

Sael smirked. “Fenris pissed in Corypheus’s dead mouth. Proud of that boy.”

“Fenris makes us all proud.” Varric took a seat, wheels turning in his head. “It makes me wonder. I thought the Wardens imprisoned Corypheus to use him.”

She took the mug and gulped half of the remains down. “Maker...on the list of things that are bad ideas, that listed in the top five worst.”

He lowered his voice and leaned toward Sael. “Maybe they did it because he can’t be killed.”

“You haven’t got yourself an imbalance of humors now have you?” Sael sat forward, a sly grin on her face. “There’s a way to defeat Corypheus. We’ll find it, don’t worry. A little faith in the old Deep Roads goes a long way.”

Varric shook. “Maker’s breath, what have I unleashed?”

“That’s a greedy claim to fame.” Sael raised an eyebrow. “I don’t believe it for a minute.”

“I was the one who led Hawke to Corypheus. If I hadn’t tracked that carta to that ruin…”

“You are responsible for a lot. Crashed weddings, your brother shitting his pants at the dinner party. Hawke’s armor getting dyed pink.” Sael unfurled fingers as she listed things off. “Unleashing ancient magister darkspawn seems a bit out of character for you. It’s not in you.”

“Speaking of in...” Varric’s cheeky smug smile returned. “The only one around here who got ‘in’ the Deep Roads is Chuckles.”

Sael groaned loudly, slumping forward onto the table. “Andraste’s ass, really, you to? You, Dorian and Dupont aren’t going to keep quiet are you?”

Varric shrugged. “Depends on the fee offered for my silence.”

“Not tricking you into a room alone with Cassandra,” Sael raised an eyebrow. “Armed.”

“You got me there, Roads.” Varric mimed zipping his mouth closed.

Sael stood, stretching. “I need a proper nap before I go get this Inquisition on the road again. Everyone is settling in and if that carries on, we’ll be plump little birds for Corypheus to pluck later.”

“Sleep tight, Roads.”

Skyhold bloomed into life. Soldiers worked to form patrols and a common space to use as a training ground. Staff bustled back and forth seeing to the needs of the fortress’s occupants. Lily, the elf servant who caught Solas and Sael, had been officially made Sael’s chambermaid.

“Ser.” Lily gently shook Sael’s shoulder. “Ser, my lady, it’s nearly dawn.”

Sael sat up on her elbows, drool still connecting her face to the pillows. “Huh, wha, dawn?”

“You’ve been asleep over a day.” Lily put the clean laundry at the end of the bed. “The advisors are looking for you.”

Groaning loudly, Sael forced herself up. “Right, right. I’m up.” She stretched, scratching her head. “Lily, is there anything going around the staff Solas and I should know.”

Lily froze a moment, she started moving again. “Actually yes. Some of our people think the human staff don’t appreciate you properly. Some are uncomfortable with your...nature.”

“Me being a spirit?”

“Yes, my lady. A lot of our people believe you to be a spirit, but not of Andraste or the Deep Roads. Some believe you to be one of gods returned to us.” Lily started pulling the bed sheets back into order as Sael walked to the dresser in search of clean clothes. “I have said nothing of the truth but encourage them to believe.”

Sael tugged the clasps into place. “That works just fine for us. Keep listening, Lily, it’s a huge help.” She patted the elf woman’s shoulder and headed out to see the advisos.  
Josephine sat in a cushy chair behind an even grander desk. She wrote with a smile on her face and a tune on her tongue. She looked up to see Sael coming towards her. She gathered her stacks of papers and tapped them into a nice neat pile. “I have made some inquiries into the Imperial Court. The sooner we deal with the threat to the Empress, the better.” Sael shuddered.

“The political situation.” Sael muffled a fake gag. “In the empire is dangerously unstable. It will complicate matters.” Josephine tried not to smile as she shook her head at Sael.

“Everything in the Empire complicates matters.” Cullen came down the few steps separating Josphine’s level and the path clearly raised onward to the war room. “It’s the Orlesian national pastime.”

Leliana came from through the door Sael had entered. “Turn your nose up at the Grand Game if you like, Commander, but we play for the highest stakes, and to the death.” A wounded pride rang in her voice.

Josephine swooped in to explain as Sael’s interest began to wane again. “The courts disapproval can be a great threat as the Venatori. We must be vigilante, to avert disaster.”

“I recall some highly polished twat who came stomping across my roads. Thought he would be safer there since darkspawn are just mindless animals. He didn’t like a passageway, to narrow and would fit his carriage…” Sael let the memory fill her mind. “Bastard try blasting one, claimed it for Orlais. Funny how they never explained the road flipping over on him.”

Josephine gasped, covering her mouth. “Marquis Corleone?! That story, it was written off as madness. Andraste preserve us, that was true?”

“I don’t like pushy, rude aristocrats at any point in my life.”

“Well then, this should be chaotic. Empress is in the middle of a civil war.” Josephine nearly fell back into her chair. “Her cousin, Grand Duke Gaspard, seeks to take the throne by force.” Josephine pointed her quill towards Leliana. “Leliana reports that a group of elves have been sabotaging both armies. Drawing out hostilities.”

“Oh, this is going to be a bag of cats isn’t it?” Sael groaned.

“Orlais holds Tevinter at bay. All of Thedas could be lost if the empire falls to Corypheus.” Josephine tried not to make it obvious that her head had begun hurting, but pinching the bridge of her nose was less than discret. “Celene is holding peace talks under the auspices of a grand masquerade. Every power in Orlais will be there.” She leaned forward, trying to impress the seriousness on Sael. “It’s the perfect place for an assassin to hide.”

“Dupont is going to be in paradise designing clothes for this party.” Sael sighed knowing full well that she was going to have to be on her finest behavior for the party. Not her forte.

Josephine nodded. “We don’t have enough sway with the court to arrange an invitation.” She hummer quietly to herself. “Perhaps a few more alliances…“

“Or soldiers.”

“We need a greater presence in Orlais. And soon.” Josephine curtly corrected Cullen for the aggressive suggestion. To a man with a hammer, every problem is a nail. Cullen was certainly fond enough of hammers.

The war room was through another door with a short hallway. At the end was a pair of monolithic doors that rivaled the pair leading into the throne room. A beautifully decorated wicket gate allowed easier access. Sael made her way through to find the advisors already waiting for her. The war table was massive. Sael heard stories passed round the Deep Roads and even found the roots of the tree. The war table had once been a tree, grander, larger and wider than any at their elevation. There before the first bricks of Skyhold had been brought to the mountain. It was felled to signal the start of ancient elvhen warfare. Polished to table the plans of their conquest. Now Sael stood at the helm of this ancient ship of destruction and death in order to save Thedas. She wondered if Thedas herself would find the irony in Sael’s predicament. It was unlikely.

Six windows, nearly floor to ceiling spaced evenly apart to curve the room outward. All of skyhold and parts of the Frostback mountains could been seen from there. Three pennants were planted behind the advisors, one representing each strength. An owl frozen in mid-flight behind Leliana, a fist clutching a spiked half circle katar behind both Cullen and Josephine.

“We have Ferelden and Orlais for maps, but Josephine,” Sael looked up at the diplomat. “You said we need more allies in Orlais. I suggest we start with these three.” She pointed at the markers for Exalted Plains, Emerald Graves and Emprise Du Lion.

“There is no realistic way to cover that much ground before the Empresses party happens.” Cullen sneered at the idea.

Sael didn’t bother to look up at him. “If you take it as one big campaign, you’re right. I was honestly thinking about teams.”

“Teams?” Josephine was unsure about where Sael was going with the idea.

It clicked right away with Leliana. “We have a surplus of quality fighters. Teams could work. But how do you want to divide them?”

Sael consider the map intensely. Each of her companions had their likes and dislikes. A few of them which were explosive to leave in a room together. “I want...Cassandra, Varric and Vivienne in the Emerald Graves. That give each class a representative, knowledge, street smarts and a sturdy wall to back them up.”

“Emprise Du Lion?” Cullen tried not to show his embarrassment for the earlier comment.

“Sera, Blackwall and Dorian. Arthur to tag along to make sure Dorian doesn’t end up lighting the other two on fire.” Sael tipped the map’s marker over. “That leaves Exalted Plains to myself, Solas, Cole and Iron Bull.”

“Exalted Plains and Emerald Graves are furthest out from the Winter Palace.” Cullen eyeballed the distance between the markers. “You’ll be cutting your arrival down to the wire.”

Sael shrugged, stepping back from the war table. “Than I’ll be fashionably late. Regardless, this is how I want this done. There isn’t a better option at this rate.”

Each of the advisors bowed their heads, a fist gently thumped to their chests. “It’ll be done, Inquisitor.” Leliana confirmed.

“Notify everyone, we’re setting out before dawn tomorrow. Have them expect an extended stay and pack accordingly.” Sael rapted a knuckle on the table and left the war room. The last thing she wanted to do before seeing to her own preparations was speaking with the arcanist that arrived with a group of pilgrims.

Off, stage left of the throne was the door into the Undercroft. It was room carved out of the very mountain Skyhold sat on. It opened out into the cold air behind parallel small waterfalls. Tools and workbenches of the finest make lined around the cave room. Some in shapes Sael wouldn’t dare guess it’s function. Others with prongs and arms that resembled torture with a humanoid replica head on top. At the stone carved railing was a sextant on a tripod beside a schematic table. Tables with herbs and tools for alchemy flanked on the right. Even a table with book keeping for purchases and sales. The blacksmith from Haven stood beside the anvils still in awe at the new work area.

A chipper voice came from behind Sael. “Hello there!” A dwarven woman stood in armor and apron, a smile beaming on her face. She realized who was standing in front of her. “Oooh, you’re her. The Inquisitor! The Spirit of the Deep Roads. It’s an honor, your worship. I’m Dagna, Arcanist Dagna.”

Sael’s jaw just about hit the ground. Dagna, of the smith caste originally. The little dwarf girl chasing after any glimmer of magic in the Deep Roads outside of Orzammar. Sitting behind fallen boulders with broken runes trying to channel ‘magic’ into them. Studying every scrap of text she could find. That Dagna. She made it. Sael’s mouth closed into an equally beaming smile. “I am, and I know you. I can’t tell you how happy I am your dream came true.”

Dagna squeaked a bit, blushing. Sael’s mark caught her attention. “Is that it?” She gasped. “The hand-anchor-mark? …It’s pretty.” She reigned in her fixation. “The Breach was pretty too… In a ‘destroy everything’ sort of way.” Dagna chuckled.

“It’s good to have you here, I wouldn’t want anyone else.” Sael kept grinning.

“Good. I’ve heard some impossible things. I love impossible things.” Dagna rattled on happily. “Those are the best things to make… well, possible.” She glanced around at the workbenches. “I’ve looked at Harritt’s devices. The precision is fantastic, but typical. Mundane. Old thinking!”

“Is what now?” Harritt snapped into the conversation.

Dagna barely turned to the blacksmith. “No disrespect to the classical trades. But you need a new perspective.”

Harritt grunted sourly and made himself scarce.

“I’ve made adjustments. As long as I keep making them, you can craft just about anything. Almost safely! I owe it all to the Hero of Ferelden.”

“Arthur? He’s here if you want to stop and say hello to him.”

Dagna shrieked, hands clasped over her mouth. “Oh by the Stone, yes! I will, first chance I get. I have to say thank you for his backing!”

Sael staggered, nearly falling on her butt when Dagna screamed. Harritt lunged from cover, hammer in hand. Sael laughed. Lifting her hand up for Dagna to get a better look. “What does it look like to you?”

“I heard what everyone said they heard you say that Corypheus said. That’s a long chain of ‘who said whats’.” She fixed her gaze on the anchor “To me it says ‘key’. But keys do a lot of things. Open, lock, switch. Some open one thing, some open everything.”

“I’m hearing you.” Sael nodded.

“It sounds like Corypheus made it to open. It looks like you can use it to close.” Dagna shrugged, eyes tracking the hands movement. “It may be that simple.” Her smile darkened a bit. “It sure is pretty. Wish I could see through it.”

Seal pulled the marked hand to her chest and feigned fear. “No Dagna, you can’t have my hand I’m not doing using it yet!”

The arcanist cackled dramatically. “It’s my precious, we wants it!” She croaked through a hiss. They laughed heartily together.

Dawn hadn’t risen yet. Even still, Sera, Blackwall, Dorian and Arthur finished saddling their horses for their journey to Emprise Du Lion. Dorian hadn’t even gotten into the saddle before his complaints started. Sera and Blackwall snickering between each other as Arthur readjusted a bedroll. There wasn’t much for orders beyond a note from Sael. ‘Go make friends in Du Lion’. Arthur wasn’t surprised at the vague nature of the mission but knew Sael well enough to be alert of her expectations.

Sera tried not to think about how long they were about to be on horseback. The cold was annoying as it was, getting saddle sores only made it worse. As if things were bad as it could get, she hated riding horses. They could kick your head clean off from the back and bite from the front and she was expected to stay up right on top of the middle. Andraste was testing her.

Blackwall and Arthur took turns scouting ahead and guarding the rear of their travels. Accustomed to life on the move, there was little complain about. Blessedly they both wore thick fabric as part of their armor. The snows of Emprise Du Lion wouldn’t affect them nearly as much as Dorian’s flashy robes or Sera’s tattered clothing and patchwork armor.

Dorian shot dirty looks at every snowflake he saw all the way from Skyhold to Emprise Du Lion. He was warned several times that if he continued to scowl, his face would stick like that. He shot the notion down, supported by his claims that perfection can only be smeared, never ruined. An act of precaution led to a few dirty looks thrown at the weather.


	25. Chapter 25

Dorian bashed the snow from his shoulders. He dropped a seething glare at the already return build up as they made their way into Emprise Du Lion. Horses shuddered, pulling against the reins when pulled toward something they deemed unenjoyable. Considering that all four had just been up to their bellies in snow, nothing was pleasant for the horses. Still, Dennet’s mounts pushed on, even with soured moods. The horse in front of Dorian flicked its tail high, sending a wad of snow at the mage’s face. He sputtered violently and unleashed a long string of curses that could only possibly be found in the gutters of a Tevinter brothel. There was a smattering of chuckling from the others, to include Dupont who insisted on following Dorian.

It was incredulous behavior from most anyone. That level of contempt for the weather. Sera didn’t like it any better but she hadn’t made a scene the entire ride from Skyhold to the threshold of Emprise Du Lion. Sera spurred her bay forward, it nickered as they high kneed it past Dorian and his grumbling steed. A single swift kick to a tree dumped the snow held in the branches above to explode over Dorian. The horse reared and snorted, bucking off into a snowy field. The group erupted with laughter as Dorian brought the horse back under control. Arms flailing to throw of snow. He shot a boiling glare at Sera that would have engulfed in flames. She snorted and cackled in her saddle, driving on to join Blackwall at the front.

Arthur rode up to him and took one of the reins from Dorian. “No snow in Tevinter?” He smirked.

“Oh yes, plenty of it.” Dorian dusted till he surrendered to the idea of being coated was inescapable. “On the mountains, the streets, roofs in the winter. All kept neatly back beyond thick walls and windows.”

“The things we suffer for.” Arthur rode beside Dorian as they returned to the trail.

Dorian scoffed, “Oh yes, the little things.” He rolled his eyes. “You southerners have a funny sense of a mild inconvenience.” He finally laughed as Arthur pretended to be offended.

At camp, Dorian blew past scout Hardin and straight for the first large fire he laid eyes on. He and Dupont huddled close, shivering like a pair of naked ninnys in a blizzard. Both expressing fondness for each other between long winded complaints about the weather. Sera and Blackwall lingered on the edge of the Arthur’s space as he greeted Hardin.

“We’re on the outskirts of Sahrnia. This is what’s left of the town.” Hardin cast a solemn glance over her shoulder. “The lucky ones got out before the river froze over.”

“That’s the lucky ones, what about those left behind. The river not safe to cross?” Arthur held out his hands to warm at the nearby fire.

Hardin shook her head. “Penned in by fade rifts and Templars. We’re the first friendly face they’ve seen in a long, long while.”

He turned his hands over, looking where Sael’s mark would have been. “The rifts might be trouble. Templars I can handle. Best I check in with the townsfolk and see what can be done.”

“I’m sure they’ll appreciate that.” Hardin nodded, stepping aside to let Arthur pass. “The Red Templars have been mounting frequent attacks.” Hardin shook her head. “They want Emprise Du Lion. Bad.”

Arthur chuckled, glancing at Blackwall and Sera to see their mischievous grins on their faces. Arthur turned back to Hardin. “I do love taking things from petulant little monsters.”

The Inquisition camp was lined on either side of a wide trench that was supposed to act as a road. The mountain passes shut down, that left the road with no purpose till next season. Arthur headed down the road and into the camp, leery of black ice. Sera, Blackwall followed first, then by the mutterings of Dorian and Dupont. Going from person to person was quick enough, there wasn’t even a villages worth there.

An older woman barely noticed the group fill her doorway. She was busy chastising herself about a lost ring belonging to her mother. Arthur quietly made note of it before backing everyone out. There was no desire to cause undue stress to the woman with all the horrors that surrounded the town. They pressed on, almost passing a building in their search. A large yellow colored plaster building that was nearly empty save for a pair of people talking just beyond the open door. Arthur nearly whipped around on his heels to turn back.

They entered after the woman excused the other to let her pray. Arthur gently cleared his throat. She turned just as he pointed out her act of kindness to the townsmen. “I do what I can. I’m partly to blame for all this.” She fidgeted with the fur trim of her robes. “The Red Templars are here because, fool that I am, sold them my family’s quarry. They’ve taken every worker. We haven’t seen them in weeks.”

Arthur was a bit taken aback by the woman confessing to him like he was a Chantry priest hearing her sins.

“And it’s not enough. They keep coming, taking more people. And there’s nothing I can do to stop them.”

“Greetings, I’m Arthur Cousland, recently of the Inquisition.” Arthur finally got a chance to speak. “Let’s back up a bit here. What do you mean they take workers?”

The woman sighed, her body relaxing as if she had been waiting ages to get the worries off her shoulders. “I’m Mistress Poulin.” One more breath. “People just disappear. First those who worked the quarry. Then they started taking people from their homes. I don’t know why. I just pray they leave me and my family alone.”

Sera snorted hard. “Don’t wanna know or not sayin’. People don’t just up an’ disappear. Someone has got to take them, and you pointing out-” Arthur raised a hand to shush Sera before her anger notched an arrow.

Blackwall spoke up in place of Sera. “What I don’t understand is why you sold anything to the Red Templars.” His mouth twisted through three different sour expressions. “I won’t sell them air to breath.”

Mistress Poulin squirmed a bit. “I didn’t know!” She started to tug more fervently at the fur. “I swear by Andraste’s pyre! They looked like knights, Chevaliers!”

Blackwall and Sera traded disbelieving eye rolls.

“Such pretty speeches.” Mistress Poulin turned to Arthur, a pleading look in her eyes. “They said they would reopen the quarry, bring work and trade back to Sahrnia. We’d been struggling since the war began. How could I refuse?”

“Refuse at the sight of them glowing red rocks sticking out.” Sera snipped.

“It was good for a time.” Poulin continued, ignoring Sera’s jab. “People went to work. They were paid. Then they stopped coming home. After that… the Red Templars stopped pretending.”

Arthur thanked her for her time and effort in maintaining the town. He turned on his heel and shoved Blackwall and Sera out the door before they could speak again. Deeper into the town, in an abandoned corner they gathered together. Arthur groaned and sat on the edge of a crumbling wall.

“Sera…”

“Oh don’t tell you me you believe that rot ‘bout not knowin’ they were Red Templars?” Sera cut off Arthur.

Arthur simply raised a hand and inhaled sharply. “No.”

“Wat?”

“I said, ‘no’.” Arthur repeated himself, trying not to pinch the bridge of his nose into his skull. “Why would I believe that? It was obvious she was hiding something. Trouble is, now she knows were suspicious and more likely to guard it even better than before.”

Sera let out a single nervous chuckle. “That’s… that’s crazy.”

Blackwall shook his head. “I said too much as well, but he’s right. She knows we didn’t buy the whole story.”

Dorian stepped in closer with Dupont tucked under his arms. A heavy blanket wrapped around them both. “I barely caught the end and I knew what was what with all that.”

“Dorian…” Arthur raised an eyebrow. “Where did you get the blanket?”

“Some quaint old women was giving them out. Said it was her last one and we’d have to share.” Dorian pulled it closer. “It’s left us with a terrible draft.”

“Fu’king git.” Sera twirled her bow to clock Dorian on the head. She chuckled when Dorian glared at her.

“Give it to the next local you see.”

Dupont started whining in his mother’s tongue. “... I don’t want to. I am cold and this place is dreadful!”

Blackwall scoffed. “Then why bother coming? You knew it was going to be snow and cold when we set off.”

Dupont wriggled under the blanket beneath Dorian. “I’m attracted to Tevinter snails. Just can’t stand to let them go.”

Sera spun around, gagging loudly. She left in search of her horse. The sweetness the two had was enough to make a gutter diver sick.

“Right…” Arthur shook his head. “First order of business is closing that rift over the river.”

Dorian clicked his tongue several times. “Tsk, tsk, how are we to do that with sweet little Sael’s hand here to seal it shut?”

“Throw things into it?” Blackwall jokingly offered.

“Kill everything and throw things in it till were bored and the locals stop having immediate problems with it.” Arthur added. “We’re likely going to have to clear it again before leaving. All we can do is note it, clean it and have Sael ride by to close it for good.”

“A ride by closing?” Sera snickered. “That’d be a sight to see.”

Arthur stood, spurring the group into motion. As they collected themselves to get to work, Dorian begrudgingly peeled the blanket off himself and dropped it a top the head of a passing child. He and Dupont smirked as the kid toppled into a snowbank, climbing over and running off with the blanket.

The rift in question was close to Sahrnia, right over the ice. Arthur dropped to a knee on the last visible rock he could find. He pressed his hand to the ice and swept away the powder on the surface. He smiled. “Thick and blue, tried and true…” He spoke standing, carefully putting his boot to the ice. Old rhyme, still worked.

“Talking to ice?” Sera followed, with slightly less caution as Arthur.

“Thick and blue, tried and true. Thin and crispy, way too risky.” Arthur expertly shoved the side of his foot against Sera’s. She skidded a moment with windmilling arms before sitting hard on the frozen river. “See?”

Blackwall and Dupont stepped out onto the ice, balanced and ‘skating’ in boots. Dorian committed himself to baby steps in defiant ambition to not end up on his ass on the ice. The rift was just beyond the shore, hovering over the center of one of the river’s bends. Demons spawn just as the group drew close. Without Sael there was no closing it, but they could slow it down.

The massive two-handed sword Blackwall wielded came in handy in the strangest way. Sliding circles around shades, he would scrap the sword tip against the ice to help change direction or slow down. The chilled metal edge slashing through shades, pulling apart malicious spirits in it’s follow through. He moved across the ice with the skill of an experienced skater. Even seem to privately relish the dance.

Arthur gripped onto the coattails of Blackwall where he could. Holding onto the end of the fellow Warden’s gambeson, hunkered down to catch any low exposed limbs. He eventually let go to give Blackwall a burst of speed and send himself sliding into the kneecaps of a desire demon.

Sera fumbled across the ice like a newborn fawn. Between her and the young deer, she came armed and shorter tempered. Throwing caution to the wind, she let her body hurtle across the ice, arrows being fired at every opportunity the Maker dropped in her path. Each arrow found a mark, a couple needing a second to finish the job off. The only way to keep track of the female elf was to listen for a trailing breathless line of curses that made as much sense as a drunken transcriber with a sense of bitter humor.

It was madness trying to cast support magic on any of his companions. Dorian had attempted to summon a barrier around the others, but half of them slid out of range before he could mutter the last word of a two second spell. Getting a barrier around the excluded was even harder, especially Sera and her haphazard mode of movement for the time being. Eventually he was forced to abandon helping and go on the offense. It wasn’t hard in this place. Fire and it’s bastard cousin, lighting, did wonders with all the ice and snow to conduct. Fire to engulf those lucky enough to remain dry. Dupont sketched feverishly in a sketchbook on the banks.

They doubled back into the remains of the town to inform the citizens that the nearby rift was under control. That escape, should they want it, would be available for a short time. Dorian rolled his eyes as the citizens complained and demanded it be closed properly so that they might stay. He understood but it wasn’t that, that stopped him cold. Giant crystals of red lyrium sticking out of the ground. He stilled while pushing Curio behind him, fingers snapping at Blackwall and Sera to direct their attention at the corrupted lyrium. Blackwall instinctually gripped his sword handle. Sera growled, spitting a loogie of snot toward the crystals. Even if they all had issues with each other, or different reasons for being there, they could all easily agree on why they were there. Rid Emprise Du Lion of Red Templars.

Arthur masked his presence and took point up the curving path leading away from town. It wasn’t long until he discovered a small group of Red Templars milling about on the road. A dagger speared through the necks of two unsuspecting Templars, their deaths giving away his location. The others came barreling from around the corner. Barriers cast and a quick explosive shot from Sera took down another before they could even raise their weapons. Blackwall crashed into the shield of the last one. He stepped back and bashed again, keeping the Templars attention while Arthur ran around back to slice a dagger under the rim of the helmet. The head bounced off into the bushes. Hardin’s report was backed by the scuffle, not there was any doubt or surprise in any case.

Mistress Poulin had said that a force of the Red Templars were seated in Highgrove, and that was the closest to town she had seen them. It was strongly suggested to remove them first. Arthur agreed, and was more than happy to have problems that he could provide solutions for. They made their way further up the stairs, red lyrium started becoming a more common sight to the displeasure of everyone present. At the top of a set of stairs, they saw the first signs of defense, stake barriers. It was meant to funnel attackers into a bottle neck into defending forces. Trouble with it was that it was only effect when paired with a quick response. The next group of Red Templars were huddled around a small campfire, swaying where they stood. They were guarding the entrance situated between two colliding cliffs forming a canyon. With the most recently dead batch of Red Templars being disposed, Arthur signaled the Inquisition forces to come and set up camp at the canyon’s entrance. Now the town wouldn’t have Templars sitting on their doorstep. Next stop on the Inquisition's ‘Honey do list’ was Drakon’s Rise.

Only clear path forward was into the passage. Arthur again took point. The passage was warmer than out in the open air. He first credited the the cliff walls shielding them from the frozen winds. But everytime he passed another patch of red lyrium, he credit fell further away. The evil crystals hummed just beneath human hearing, flickering bands of crimson energy arching over its surface. Snow even gave it a wide berth, not in a conscious effort but the heat emitting from it. Arthur had seen enough lyrium in his time with the Wardens and to see a blood colorer version giving off steady waves of warmth was enough to haunt him between patches of it. Ahead he saw the passage widened out, enough to accommodate a large statue of Fen’harel. Another small group of Red Templars to kill before moving on.

A bloody snowball exploded in the eye of Fen’Harel’s statue. Sera snickered. “...’waste of good rock.”

Arthur and Blackwall looked up to see the bits of snow slide down the stone muzzle. “Not a fan of dogs, Sera?” Arthur chuckled.

“A statue of Fen’Harel, the Dalish trickster god.” Dorian sat as charmingly as a pile of rocks would allow him. “Aren’t you supposed to avoid getting his attention?”

Sera scoffed. “A load of hot air. Just scary stories to make little elfy boys and girls behave. Do you see any of them silly marks on my face that come with Dalish?”

“So you’re Andrastian?” Blackwall lowered the tin coffee cup in hand a bit. He was grateful for conversation since the stop they’d taken had started quiet.

“No...I mean, well sorta. Everyone has gotta have something to believe in.” Sera rubbed her arm. This was quickly becoming more personal than she wanted.

“A comfort and just in case it’s right?” Arthur asked without judgement in his tone. She nodded.

Dupont looked up from his sketch book. “By that logic shouldn’t you also believe in the Dalish gods?”

“What’s it to ya!” Sera snipped. “Ain’t no one going around telling me there’s rules and stuff to believing. That’s the whole deal ain’t it, belief. Why ya’ gotta complicate it by telling me what I am supposed to believe.” Dupont made a face and nodded once. “The Maker and them Dalish big boys aren’t all that different. “

“...”

“...”

An uncomfortable silence fell on the group. Sera sighed. “Honestly, I bet that ‘Fenny Haul’ prick knows some good pranks. I guess he ain’t so bad in the long run.”

Blackwall chuckled. “Could ask Solas. I’m sure he’d know all about the old Dalish gods.”

Sera’s head shook hard. “Oh no, Maker no, I’d sooner suck on the first chubby knob offered before I listen to one of his lectures.”

Dorian exploded with laughter, Dupont along with him. Arthur choked on a sip from his canteen, pounded a fist against his chest in an attempt to breath. Blackwall’s hearty laugh resounded through the passage. Sera fell into their fit of laughter until their ribs began to hurt. The last of the snowball’s ice and water slumped off the statue.


	26. Chapter 26

Blackwall stopped to watch Sera make twisted mocking faces at an owl statue positioned in the middle of the passage. There was no explanation about why it was there. No warning either, Arthur discovered it first and almost with just his face. Just a short way past it came the sounds of human voice, human until one of them echoed strangely. More Red Templars. Arthur picked a small stone from the ground and flicked it at Sera to alert her. Blackwall and Sera reacted immediately by dawning weapons. They crept up to find half the passage was a massive opening and yet another collection of Red Templars standing between them and the exit. They were disposed of much the same way as the other. With every group encountered, complaining rose in mass. Sera and Blackwall hoisted a body between them and heaved it into the grouping of red lyrium crystals opposite the passage opening with the drop off. Dorian chuckled as the body crumpled in an unflattering pose like a rejected ragdoll. 

Moving on, they finally came to Drakon’s Rise. Blackwall was grateful for the open sky overhead in place of great boulders and threatening icicles. Large chunks of broken red lyrium dotted the path forward into a partly established base camp. Here, more than see thus far, spires and jagged crystals of red lyrium burst through the ground. Unsettling sight to behold as each group looked like a monsters bloody teeth mid-snarl. One of the ‘teeth’ moved, Sera’s stomach dropped all of a sudden. A garbled distorted roar came from atop the small mound of boulders in front of them. A behemoth shambled towards them, dragging an arm like a flail. The group attacked, more in panic rather than a coordinated assault. One of Sera’s arrows found its mark in the abominations head. Dorian’s fire kept it back from wildly charging at them all. Arthur whirled daggers along one side and it’s leg. Blackwall roared in defiance and repeated bashed and sliced his giant sword. The behemoth eventually seized and collapsed in the snow. Still riding the high of defeating and killing a behemoth, the group charged around the mound, knowing full well that stragglers had to be there. The previous fight had no doubt alerted anyone in ear shot that the Inquisition had arrived. Four were found and killed before they could gather their wits.

The camp was claimed in the Inquisition’s name. Dorian and Dupont made a mad dash for one of the tents to make their own. Sera found one apart from the others, singing out of tune about enjoying a night in a cozy cot over sleeping under the stars. Blackwall went with Arthur to find a way to alert the main force in Emprise Du Lion to advance. It was already nightfall by the time one of Leliana’s scouts found them, huddled around a fire and swapping stories. A raven was dispatched for the main force. The scout bowed and left to focus on the tasks set to him by the spymaster. 

Tower of Bone went much the same as Drakon’s Rise. Red Templars and a behemoth to fight, camps to claim and disturbing amount of red lyrium to avoid getting too close to. The single largest difference was a giant bridge tower connected to a stone crossing with chains, links larger than a small house. At the edge of a cliff, Arthur could see the vast and seemingly endless expanse of Emprise Du Lion. He groaned at the thought of everything they were meant to tackle in this snow covered land.

Mistress Poulin was shackled and set off with an escort headed to Skyhold. Arthur gripped the letters that became a damning evidence of her dealings with the Red Templars. How she had taken money from them and continued to let them take townsfolk for work in the quarry. She had chosen to turn a blind eye to it all in an effort to feed those that remained. The quarries had been liberated of Templar control. Sera had been the hardest obstacle as with every cage of people they freed, her temper rose. Eventually it took Blackwall and Arthur to hold her up off the ground to keep her from running back to town and thrash Poulin. After the arrest, the elf rogue refused to talk to anyone. She had climbed as high as she could get and remained there for several hours. The others waited around a fire they made just outside of town.

Recounting their achievements among each other. Dorian took a lot of pride in helping in taking down a pompous and conning demon get a deserving beating. Dupont was eager to leave, his sketchbook full of drawings for a new line of clothing. Most scratched out blaming some form of stagnation in the area for the lack of taste in fashion. Several others were of Dorian, in poses unfamiliar to the group. Not to be counted among the things they wanted to know about Dorian.

Blackwall and Arthur clasped shoulders and sat in quiet reflection for a long time. The events of Emprise du Lion were trying at best. Arthur stared into the campfire, trying to recount the amount of darkspawn he had killed in his life thus far. In his count, he couldn’t find one of them trying to destroy each other for personal gain or salvation. World was infected with the blighted creatures, all stolen from their previous lives, but there was a macabre honor among them. He threw back his hot whiskey and chalked his reflection up to a hopeful projection. It was easier to kill them when they were just ‘soulless monsters’. Then again, there is always hope for saving those who are lost. Blackwall replayed the events in his mind. He wondered if any of these good deeds were really worth anything. If he in the end would run away again when things got bad or if he’d end up like Mistress Poulin and sell out his friends and comrades for just another day of freedom.

“A raven has arrived at the camp for us. Scout Hardin brought the message down as she was leaving.” Arthur broke the unwelcomed silence.

Dorian perked up. “Oh please tell me they are summoning us to somewhere warmer.”

“In a way.”

Blackwall shook his head. “Too warm?”

“No, we’re headed out to...Crestwood. There is some meetings happen there and we’re to make our way there as soon as we’re done here.” Arthur tossed the note into the fire. “The order is going out to the others as well, save for the Inquisitor.”

Blackwall sat up straight, sighing as his head fell back. “Maker’s balls… ” He emptied his mug in a single gulp. He exhaled hard. “And where is the Inquisitor going if not with us?”

“Once she’s done with Exalted Plains, Western Approach.” Arthur turned out his hands offering empty palms. “I believe that was the choice they came to at the war room. Honestly, she’s hard to predict.”

“Our little road spirit, yes. A planned direction in those roads and the spirit is unknowable in the matters.”

Dupont chuckled. “Perhaps that Solas has a map. He seems to know her mood and intentions.”

“Maker, yes, we’ve all seen the way they look at each other when they think we aren’t looking.” Dorian added.

“Wait,” Blackwall’s brow furrowed a bit. “What are you saying? There is something going on between the Inquisitor and Solas? The apostate elf?”

Everyone, even Sera, looked at Blackwall in amazement. “You haven’t noticed? Those two are an item, just not public.”

“Says who?” Blackwall was dumbfounded. “That could be seen as an abuse of power or worse, just some elf apostate mage trying to weasel into power.”

Dupont shook his head, giving Blackwall a sympathetic look. “Oh honey, mon petit, no. They’re just not a sneaky as they think and you are too precious to see it.”

He grumbled into his mug under his breath, trying to hide the blush. A sudden memory came to mind. Making his way to the fortress’s kitchen and seeing the two in a dark corridor. The brief scathing glare before Sael and Solas parted even faster in different directions. It was clear now, they in fact hadn’t been arguing when he stumbled on them.

Arthur clapped his hands. “While we’re on the topic of enlightenment. It’s going to be another rough week or so in the saddle. Let’s turn in and head out at first light.”

“Fine.” Sera jumped down and landed amongst the men. “Anything’s better than this shite hole of a town.”

They gathered their gear and started making their way to the tents. A nights rest and resupplying in the morning. It was going to be a long and hard ride to the Crestwood. Every minute mattered once they headed out. Blackwall all the more suspicious of pairings than when he left in the first place. Suddenly he didn’t think Dorian and Dupont were honestly fitting Dorian for a new armor so frequently.

Angry storm clouds churned in the skies over Minrathous. A rolling flanking line of clouds rolled again and again to swell into a greater mass. It was getting darker with every passing minute. It swirled overhead the Imperium’s Chantry that housed the Black Divine’s seat of power. Thought the Black Divine wasn’t present, another sat in his throne. The spirit of Tevinter moved to sit crooked in the chair, a black glass in hand swirling wine. In the empty church a single soul faded into view.

“Thedas,” Tevinter shifted, the wriggling mass of tiny humanoid servants shuddered at his tone. “How ‘lovely’ for you to drop in, unannounced.”

“She was to die.” Thedas hissed, a sound like a boiling ocean. “Not become an Inquisitor. You’re pawn failed and matters are getting worse.”

Tevinter dissipated his glass. “Every time I see you, I can’t help but wonder why the wine suddenly turns sour.” He raised, the servants squishing and falling beneath him down the steps. “Yes, I know, poor Amladaris just wasn’t up to it was he. Even after Dumat was gracious enough to provide him with a false archdemon. Tsk tsk.”

“My dragon had nothing to do why the abomination lost. You stranded him.” Thedas moved to maintain the distance between herself and Tevinter.

“Accusations in my house?” He’s tone darkened. The servants trembled visibly.

“Incompetence in my world.” She shot back.

“Half.” He corrected. “I do recall the Veil doing us all harm.”

The two remained still, wordless seething glares fixed on each other. “...”

“Something must be done.” Thedas spoke, barely a whisper. She was too weak to maintain her anger.

“Yes, I agree.” Tevinter flowed gracefully back and forth, pacing the room. “The Deep Roads has gained herself a position of power over an army. We must replenish what Amladaris has squandered…”

“That still needs punishment.”

“...” Tevinter scoffed. “Oh right, after all he’s been through, I’m sure taking away toys will suffice.”

“You’re not living up to your reputation, Slacker.”

He stopped short and consider the world spirit. “Very well, I believe an idea or two have struck me. As for the tantruming Deep Roads, suggestions?”

“The living are fragile, but spirits are eternal.” Thedas cracked a wicked smile.

“Oh.”

Thedas chuckled, “I like this idea, you’ll see he gets set on the path?”

Tevinter gave a deep sweeping bow. “My lady and land, you truly are an unforgiving spirit. Yes, I will see to it personally.”

Green. In all that they had seen, there was never so much green before. Every shade imaginable under the sun. Leaves fluttering on the branches like blades made out of deep colored gems. Thick straight swaying grass, unfamiliar to the feet of sentient life. Roots the width of a Qunari’s chest rising out of the soil only to arch back down and dive back down in the dirt. The amount of trees gave a sense of intimacy that could never be reproduced no matter how hard man tried. A feeling of home to those who respected the land, a omnious ambush to less gracious. The Emerald Graves, a land that was once shaped and guided by the ancient elvhen. Now a destination of Red Templars and the Inquisition.

Inquisition made camp in the southern parts of the Emerald Graves. Fenris was the most stunned by the greenery of the land. Most all of his life that he remembered had been spent in the cold stone world of humans. His former master had rarely choose to venture beyond the city walls. Afterall, that’s what servants and his personal guard were for. Hawke had to take his hand to keep him walking as he stared enraptured with the sights.

Cassandra led the group into the camp. Vivienne stayed at the opposite flank of the Seeker from where Varric walked. Cassandra had tried to get the companions gathered to vote on who should be the voice of the Inquisition while they were separated from Sael. There was little to no success with the vote as Varric, Hawke and Fenris all cast votes for inanimate objects.

Hawke, the dead goat that had been found beside Skyhold’s wall when they left.

Fenris, just raised a glass bottle, stating, “Only this tells me what to do anymore.”

Varric voted for Donnen Brennokovic.

Vivienne abstained. She knew a waste of time when she saw one.

Cassandra loudly groaned in disgust. “This is important.” She pleaded. “While we are here, everything we do is in the name of the Inquisition.”

“Then take the job, Seeker.” Varric pulled a deck of cards from his bag. Hawke fished small cups from her own. Fenris poured and the three settled down for a game of Wicked Grace while Cassandra sorted herself out.

“Very well, if no one votes, or objects…” Cassandra hated few things in life as much as being the center of attention. Especially by choice. “I will do it.”

“If that works for you, Seeker.” Varric waved her off. “Broody, Hawk and I have an old score to settle.”

Another groan. Cassandra turned on her heels and made her way over to Scout Hardin with Vivienne.

“Good to see you, Lady Cassandra.” Hardin bowed her head a bit. “Hope you have your comfortable boots on. We have a number of rifts here all over the forest, but I don’t see the Inquisitor with you.”

“She decided to divide and conquer the wave of request for aid.” Cassandra explained.

“A tactical choice.” Vivienne defended.

Hardin only nodded in acknowledgement. “We’ve located the mysterious ‘Fairbanks’. But he won’t share his information with anyone but the Inquisitor.” He face twisted a bit in concern. “He and his men are camped out at Watcher’s reach, on the path ahead.” She pointed to the small cobble path leading out of the camp.

“Perhaps we can persuade him.” Cassandra assured the dwarven scout.

“From what we can tell, they’re refugees from the war. Peasants, mostly.”

“A rabble mass with pitchforks and backhoes.” Vivienne sneered a bit. “Hardly anything more dangerous than an uneducated and untrained mob.”

Cassandra stiffened. She quickly thanked Hardin and stepped back to Varric and his friends playing cards. “And those uneducated peasants can turn their pitchforks on us in a heartbeat. I suggest we try not angering them with our first meeting.

Hardin called after the women and quickly caught up to them. “I forgot, one other thing. A group of deserters from the Imperial Army has established itself here. ‘Freemen of the Dales”, they call themselves. Hostile to the Inquisition and pretty much everyone else.” She bowed again and left the two.

“Well then, it sounds like the peasants are more charming than at first blush than I thought.” Vivienne quietly chuckled.

“I have a bad feeling about this. Many, in fact.” Cassandra sighed and went to collect Varric and the others.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long absence. The holidays have been keeping me very busy. Last chapter I wasn't overly pleased with so I hope this one makes up for that lack luster piece. Enjoy the rest of 2019 guys!

“For the last time, please, we are members of the Inquisition and sent by the Inquisitor herself.” Cassandra groaned, she pinched the bridge of her nose a bit too hard, spots flickered in her vision for a moment.

“It was the Herald I asked to speak with and I will have no one else.” Fairbanks shot back just as fast as he had the first three times.

Fairbanks and his men had set up camp in a deep canyon that cut through part of the forest. Thick twisted roots arched in and out of the cracks between boulders to now serve as shelves and weapon racks. Boulders themselves had become anchors for tents, ropes and catwalks. The leader of Watcher’s canyon was an average looking man with dark hair and surprisingly clean clothes. He and Cassandra had been trapped in a circular argument for the hour the group had been there.

Hawke tossed back the remains of her cup and sat it down roughly. She had had enough of it. Neither were budging. “That’s it.” She grumbled to Fairbanks. Varric and Fenris had quickly followed. “Do you want the Inquisition’s help or not?”

“And who are you to speak like this to me?” Fairbanks hissed.

“Champion of Kirkwall.”

Fairbanks only managed to open his mouth before his face went pale. “I had no idea the Champion of Kirkwall had joined the Inquisition’s ranks.”

“I have.” She continued to glare. “Now are we doing business or not?” 

He nodded. “Forgive me, it’s an honor to meet to the Champion of Kirkwall and a representative of the Inquisition.”

“We were told you had information for the Inquisition.” Cassandra didn’t remove the edge in her voice.”

Fairbanks looked a bit sheepishly at Cassandra. “Yes.” He cleared his throat. “You have encountered the Freeman? Aggressive bastards, no? They have killed a dozen of my people. We’ve tried to fight, but we cannot match their strength. You can.”

“That’s what you had that was strictly for the Inquisitor?” Hawke rolled her eyes. Fenris nudged her a bit, a look on his face that Hawke knew when he found rumors of slavers. She straightened up a bit.

The man could see the annoyance in the face of most of the Inquisition party members. “Why should you care about this, you ask? Because the Freeman are colluding with your enemy.”

“Present company included,” Varric gestured to himself and Hawke. “That’s a longer list than we have time to share. Which one?”

“Rogue Templars.” Fairbanks dropped the name flat. “I’ve seen them through the woods, heading for Freemen bases, leaving with crates.”

Fenis clicked his tongue in disgust. “That does create a problem.”

“Destroy the Freemen, and they’ll lead you straight to the Red Templars. This I promise.”

Cassandra looked to the others for any unspoken opinions. They were all still impossible to read. She turned back to Fairbanks, “We will look into this.” He offered his camp to them and all the information he had gathered there as well. Promising in exchange for help, the full services of his men and their intelligence. Cassandra pretended not to notice Vivienne perk up at the notion of another group indebted to the Inquisition.

The information was there just as Fairbanks said. Cassandra wanted to study everything available. Hawke argued that the best education on an enemy was diving in head first. Varric promptly reminded the Champion about the numerous occasions where that exact mentality nearly got her killed and if he and Fenris hadn’t been involved the likely outcome she would have suffered. Cassandra lost to the majority vote of heading out to face their enemy head on as it was. She took what she could to read on the road.

It wasn’t long before they found the first of undoubtedly many Freemen of the Dales members. Cassandra counted five of them. No plan was formed as Hawke simply bite her hand to draw blood and rushed forward, staff blade aimed for the first Freemen. Fenris and Varric weren’t surprised by the fool hardy rush into battle, in fact they themselves ran after her weapons prepared. Vivienne barely had a second to cast a barrier on the group before they were too scattered to protect. Cassandra cursed them all in the Maker’s name and was the last to run in.

A single archer and four soldiers. The archer had been closest to the charge and thus had a staff’s blade buried in his throat before the arm was sounded. A second later the four others were alerted to their attackers. Vivienne encased the next closest in ice, allowing Fenris to slammed the edge of his giant two handed sword through the victims midsection without fail. Varric riddled the next with bolts until he slumped to the ground. A few extra for good measure. Hawke had lunged into the last soldier, thumps plunging into his eye sockets, her magic pumping through to boil the man's blood inside his body. He was still writhing and trapped in a silent scream when they hit the ground.

Vivienne cleansed the air of magic around her, making no effort to hide the scowl on her face. “You’re a blood mage.”

Hawke dusted herself off, it only smeared the blood along her arm. “You’re a blood mage…” She mocked Vivienne. “What’s it too you? Never more than myself or in self defense.”

“It’s forbidden.”

Hawke shrugged. She saw Varric smiling, shaking his head. “I didn’t know the Inquisition was so well off it could pick and choose who they got help from.”

“It’s a bad image for the Inquisition.” Vivienne hissed.

“Right, because all the law abiding mages have a lot of free time on their hands right now. Tell me, how is your personal time nowadays.” Hawke smirked at the Enchantress.

“You should ask your friend Anders.” Vivienne said darkly.

Hawke lunged. Varric and Cassandra caught her in midair, holding onto her as she fought to get her hands on Vivienne. Fenris stood at the side.

“I may not like Anders, or agree with his methods,” Fenris’s lyrium fainted glowed. “But I’d advise against using him as ammunition against Hawke anytime.”

Vivienne’s calm demeanor was a front to the seething anger inside. “If I want the advice of a liberated servant, I’ll be sure to check the kitchen first.”

Cassandra reacted faster than Varric, leaping between Vivienne and Fenris only to catch the right hook meant for the enchantress to her own face. Everyone went still. Cassandra slowly rose to her feet, the back of her hand still pressed to her bleeding lower lip. Fenris said nothing as her cold piercing glare fell on his face.

“Anything else?” Her voice was hollow and prickly. “We may as well leave, Let Corypheus have this place. We certainly doing his work from him, arguing amongst ourselves like this.”

“ … ” The entire group suddenly found something else to look at in their shame. Anything than the cutting expression on Cassandra’s face.

“Wicked Grace, poisonous sarcasm, underhanded insults and blunt violence.” The Seeker continued. “We are here in the place of Sael and everything we do is something she will be judged by. How would feel to know you’re trusted representatives acted like this in your name?”

“Disappointed...”

“Furious.”

“Cheated.”

“Betrayed.”

Cassandra gave her armor a short harsh tug. “Indeed. Perhaps now we can do what we have been sent to accomplish rather than acting like fools all trying to impress the bell of the ball?”

The first location Fairbanks wanted them to inspect was the Veridium Mine. Tucked away in the forest, it was easy enough to miss. The entrance was surrounded by massive boulders and rocky cliffs. An ancient elvish archway was carved into the largest wall of one of the very cliffs opposite the protecting wall. Outside the true entrance was a pair of Freemen guards on either side of a campfire. Hawke magically imbued two of Varric’s bolts. A single pull of the trigger sent both hurtling forward into their respective targets. They collapsed dead with a bolt a piece through their skulls.

Inside hardly looked like what was expected for a mine. Carved stone flooring and staircase leading down on either side. A massive wall from floor to ceiling that ran from the start of one staircase to the other. A pair of brazier on both sides. Cassandra was overtaken again by Fenris and Hawke. The pair charged down one of the staircases. Freemen were undoubtedly inside as they were heard talking on the other side of the center wall. But the Kirkwall pair prefered ambushing enemies over a strategy. Cassandra and the others were barely down the steps before the screaming of Freemen were heard. Outcries of death and charging. A Freemen with an opulent tower shield was hardly an obstacle to Fenris, his body glowed along the lines of lyrium right before he thrust his arm through shield and into the chest of the soldier. The Tevinter elf’s opponent seized for a moment before going limp. Hawke had exploded one with blood magic. With two already dead that only left three for the rest.

Cassandra confronted two soldiers running at her with their sword raised. Varric shot down the third, an archer, as he ran past a giant crystal of red lyrium on a wooden cart. Cassandra and Vivienne made short work of the two other soldiers. Why they fought with her, the enchantress speared one with ice and the other was quickly frozen before his sword could strike Cassandra.

“Well, that’s the first one done on Fairbank’s ‘Honey-do’ list.” Varric chuckled as he slung Bianca onto his back.

A voice came from behind them, where the cells were. “The guards have a key. Please, it’s over there.” The woman pleaded.

They quickly searched the mine. There was ample documentation on the Red Templars and Freemen’s dealings. Next to two large stacks of lumber, on a barrel was the key. Cassandra grabbed it and quickly made her way over to the cell. As fast as she unlocked it, the captives rushed out. She was grateful and told them as she was leaving that they could find her at Fairbanks camp if they wanted to speak with her again.

With the mine picked through, the left as well, albeit in less of a hurry. Deeper into the Emerald Graves. The forest density changed as they made their way. Some points were so choked with trees and roots that they had to climb through single file. Others, they could have set up camp and have warrant enough to build four fires. The next closest objective was an estate currently being used by the Freemen, Villa Maurel. It was inconveniently located opposite of the mine. They found it by the overgrown blue and white walls. Golden griffin statues perched atop the square pillars. The only way in was through a thick ivy covered arched pergola. It opened into a vast courtyard, flowers growing of their own accord and natural vegetation reclaiming the estate for itself. The courtyard was devoid of Freemen. Beyond it was the main house, fenced off by white criss crossing lattice and a decorative metal gate. Through another long pergola and they finally made it inside to the front foyer.

Seemingly endless ceilings. High arching windows every few feet that came to a sharp point. Shades of blue that clearly defined the villa as Orleasian. Gold accented everything possible from rugs to flecks in the walls. White and dark wood furniture filled the foyer with enough seating for a battalion.

“The Freemen’s leader should be holed up here.” Cassandra moved cautiously through the foyer.

“Do you think they went out of their way to make this place a mess, or it came like that?” Varric gave a stack of books with a thick layer of dust a pitiful look.

Vivienne laughed. “Did you expect cleanliness from a group of thugs?”

“Forget you Orleasians suddenly come down with an illness anytime a broom is offered to you.” Fenris snipped. “Something your slaves are immune to it seems.”

“My dear, anyone could get sick,” Vivienne didn’t bother to look at the elf. “at the mere sight of your mother. Not just Orleasians.”

“I pity yours, since you were born with that stake up your ass.” Hawke cut in to defend Fenris. They were again chastised by Cassandra.

Through one of the many blue doors they found themselves in the villa’s private courtyard. Finally, signs of life in the villa. The courtyard was occupied by five Freemen, a captain, archer and three soldiers. This time, Hawke and Fenris waited just behind Cassandra. The Seeker silently pointed out the archer, she wanted that gone first. Varric was more than happy to oblige. He took a moment to line up his shot and exhaled slowly as he squeezed the trigger. A bolt burst from the crossbow and buried itself into the back of the archers neck. There was no sound. No alerted soldiers or the captain barking orders. None of them noticed. Cassandra wasn’t one to miss opportunities. She looked over the remaining four. The captain was armored head to toe, carrying a tower shield. Even a master marksman like Varric would have to hope the Maker smiled on him for a single lethal shot. Vivienne could assist with ice, but that didn’t change the fact of heavy armor verses a crossbow bolt. It was too unlikely to be a one shot kill. The other three soldiers wore varying assortments of the same armor, but each left vital targets exposed.

“Vivienne,” Cassandra whispered. “Can you fire an arrow made of ice?”

The enchantress silently scoffed. “My dear, it would take-”

“Yes or no?”

“Of course.” Vivienne answered in a cold whisper.

“You and Varric take out two of the soldiers.” They nodded. “Fenris, we will take the captain. Hawke, the last soldier.”

Vivienne and Varric made their arrangements and lined up for the shots. On the count of three, they fired. Two soldiers fell back dead. The captain and remaining soldier didn’t miss those deaths. Whipping around to see their attackers. Cassandra and Fenris charged the captain, the Seeker bashing into the tower shield and Fenris flanking to her side for a strike at the captains back. Hawke banished her staff, drawing the attention of the last soldier who had intended to rush to his captains aid. Hawke rushed in, ducking under a sweeping sword swing. Her staff blade thrust up into the unguarded shoulder. With a quick yank, she drew it back to bring it to her lips and speak a spell to the man’s blood. He convulsed, the sounds of bone crunching mixed into his howls of agony. She kept the spelling going until the soldier crumpled inward on himself. He sank into a heap on the ground, blood seeping out beneath him. The captain had no time to deal with the blood mage, now at his back. Cassandra’s sword bashed against his shield again. He tried to raise it to defend himself but suddenly found his breathing very difficult. He looked down to see the tip of a massive sword stick out of his chest plate. He glanced over his shoulder to see the Tevinter elf with a sickening smile on his face. The captain slid off the sword to the ground. Dead.

With the courtyard cleared, they were free to resume their search. “Fairbanks struggled with these thugs?” Vivienne headed for another blue door. “I can’t see why. At least these Freemen can see what real power is.”

No one bothered answering. It was simply best ignored if they wanted to keep exploring. They found more documentation of the Freemen and Red Templars working together. Beyond in one of the wings of the villa, they found a fragment of a key. Varric suggested keeping it stating that if it was broken on purpose it must unlock something important. Or at least valuable. Another fragment was found in a room with a locked door, first in the vast amount this villa had. Cassandra honed in on a wall opposite the locked door that looked fragile. She peered through a sizeable gap between the bricks in the hope to see what was beyond the wall. All she could see was some furniture and a red glow. She didn’t ask, Cassandra simply stepped back and rammed a powerful kick into the brick. It collapsed into the room.

Inside were several pieces of furniture covered in white sheets. A large table that Vivienne immediately began examining. A few crates and barrels with red lyrium crystals jutting out of them. Locked boxes and trunks. The papers inside the room was the last solid piece of evidence that the Freemen had been smuggling for the Red Templars.

“Those key fragments we found.” Vivienne stood up from examining the table. “I believe if we find the third, this device should reassemble them.”

Varric nodded. “Oh there has to be something good for all this work.”

“I believe that as well, we should search the rest of the villa for that piece.” Cassandra left with Hawke and the others to leave Vivienne with the table. The last piece was eventually found in a private bed chamber and brought back to the enchantress.

Vivienne channeled magic through the table. It worked, much as one would expect. She took the key while it still glowed and handed it to Cassandra. They all headed for the only locked door across the room. The key fit and the door swung open. Inside was weapons, bags of gold, statues of gold, priceless paintings and designer furniture pieces. Against the back wall was a Red Templar banner. The villa and discovered treasure undoubtedly had been the spoils of the Red Templars occupation of the Emerald Graves. The group took what they could carry. A mark made on their map for the Inquisition to come and claim the rest. Cassandra joined the others outside the treasure room and started for the exit.

“Whoa, whoa, hold up.” Hawke called her to stop. “Where are you going?”

“To our next objective.”

The others all looked at each other. “Seeker, it’s been a long day and then some…” Varric began, unsure how to go about telling Cassandra, his one time captor that he was tired.

“We’re stopping for the night.” Fenris spoke plainly. Varric sighed, that was one way to tell her.

Cassandra shook her head. “The sooner we are done with what Fairbanks wants, the sooner we can return to Skyhold.”

“And what, onto the next mission from there?” Hawke grumbled. “Look, I appreciate the can-do attitude and need to get the work done, but we’re only human.” Fenris and Varric stared at her hard. “Some of us.” she corrected, blowing a silent kiss toward Fenris. He cracked a small smile and nodded once.

The Seeker turned to Vivienne. “And you?”

“My dear, a horse can only go so far before it drops dead on you. I don’t suggest testing the limits any further than we have today. After all, we have this… quaint villa to ourselves.”

“A night in a bed, even dirty, sounds better than the saddle or a cot.” Hawke backed up the enchantress.

Cassandra was outnumbered. “Very well, we’ll camp here tonight and leave at first light.”

“How generous.” The sarcasm in Hawke’s voice wasn’t missed.

They took up the private rooms in the east wing of the villa. Cassanda took the first one she found. Vivienne took the cleanest room, still finding things to dispose of into the hall. Fenris and Hawke bedded together in the master bedroom simply to take the largest bed and fireplace. Varric took a room between Fenris and Hawke’s choice and the other two ladies of the party. It had been a long hard day and it wasn’t long before the sounds of people sleeping flitted through the east wing’s hallways. 

Another night that the Maker didn’t answer Cassandra’s prayers. She remained seated on the side of the bed. It was filled with feathers, topped with thick quilts and even a copper bed warmer. Luxury was something she could never see herself becoming accustomed to. All of it just seemed unnecessary.

Knock knockknockknock, knock knock

A look shot between door to the window, both of Thedas’s moon hung in the sky. She grabbed her sword and slowly approached the door. Everyone was asleep, but an enemy wouldn’t knock. Would they? She opened the door, with it acting as a shield. No sword or person came rushing in. Cassandra peered around the corner and saw Varric standing there with his arms behind his back.

“Are you always this suspicious?” He flashed a charming smile at her.

Cassandra groaned and relaxed, opening the door fully. “What do you want, Varric?”

“I know it’s been tense between us and the little coup de grace over staying the night here probably hurt your pride a bit.” Varric explained at the threshold. “So I brought you a little gift.”

“A gift?” Cassandra’s face scrunched a bit.

Varric brought a bundle of crystal grace flowers from behind his back. “Saw them in the courtyard earlier today and I thought it would make a nice peace token. Afterall, I’ve never met a woman who doesn’t like flowers.”

“Hawke.”

“Snapdragons.”

She took the flowers and smelled them. The scent was like a chilled winter breeze in a forest. “...I don’t know what to say.”

“Well, ‘thank you’ always tends to work.” He chuckled.

“...” Cassandra considered the dwarf a moment longer. “Thank you, Varric. They’re lovely.” It was a strained silence between them, both unsure what to do next. Cassandra stepped aside and nodded for him to enter.

He thanked her and came in. Varric found the wet bar and poured himself a drink. He shook a bottle for Cassandra to see. She nodded for him to pour her a glass. With drinks in hand they both took to the seats in front of the fireplace.

Varric sat with a groan. “With everything going on, it’s a good idea to enjoy a moment while you can.”

“And you came to me?” Cassandra took her drink and sat in the chair just across from him. “It seems an odd choice given our history.”

Varric chuckled again, taking a sip of the brandy. “What can I say, I have an acquired taste in company.”

“Bizarre is more like it.” Cassandra smiled.

“Looks good on you.”

“What does?”

“That smile.” Varric pointed at her with the glass in hand. “Seeing it, well, I’d say it’s like the deserts getting the first rain in a decade. Refreshing and gift from the Maker.”

Cassandra hoped the firelight hid the blush on her face. She placed the bundle of flowers into an empty wine glass on the table. “You were hardly this pleasant in our first meeting.”

“Interrogation is an off-putting first date choice.” He sipped again.

She chuckled. “Is that what you call it? Or is that how you’ll describe it in your next book.”

“...’Next book’ implies you’ve read the others.” Varric raised an eyebrow. “Seeker, are you a reader?”

Cassandra raised the glass to her lips and took a long sip while staring at the fire.

Varric let out a hearty laugh. “Oh that is a treat. Most times I meet a fan, they are clamoring for an autograph. Not roping me into a chair and demanding details about Kirkwall’s chaos.”

“Which is worse.” Cassandra felt stress ebbing away as she talked with the dwarf.

“The autographs, by a long shot. I’ll take being tied up in a chair by you any day. Certainly was far more interesting.”

Cassandra felt the blush return and quickly finished her drink. “I’ll be sure to remember that.” The last remains of worry clung to the back of her mind. Varric could see it on her face.

He finished his and sat the drink on the table between them. “What’s on your mind, Seeker?”

“...”

“Seeker.”

“Is this to be my purpose? All those years of training and study. It feels like its been wasted to now be in charge of a group that can’t stand me, and an advisor to a women...spirit, that doesn’t really need me.”

Varric thought hard on her words. “Who said I can’t stand you?”

“You fight me and mock at every turn.” Cassandra’s hands turned over as she talked. Still fixed on the fire. “Vivienne is just waiting for me to fail. Hawke and Fenris...I can’t see her having answered my call for help when the Breach opened up. I feel lost.”

“Seeker, if none of us trusted you, even in the slightest… you wouldn’t be wondering. You can’t read minds, but trust me, not a single person here would be quiet about it.”

Cassandra sighed and hung her head. “Is this all I am. A glorified token in another’s plans. Leliana and I started this Inquisition and yet I don’t feel like I have much of a hand in it anymore.”

“That why this mission mean so much to you?”

“Yes.”

Varric rose from his chair and came over to Cassandra. He put his hand on her back and rubbed little circles back and forth. “Seeker…”

“Don’t lie to me just to make me feel better, please.” Her head still hung.

“Believe it or not, I actually tell the truth more often than not.” She scoffed. He brought his other hand up and worked her grip along her shoulders. “You’re a pain in the ass, unyielding, sharp and abrasive. But you’ve been loyal and I have never seen a single person go the lengths that you do for this Inquisition.”

“Is it enough though?” She sat back to let Varric continue on her shoulders. It felt wonderful to have someone to talk to like this. She didn’t realize it right away, she tilted her head to rub her cheek against his knuckles. They were rough against her skin, smelling of fire and rosin.

He didn’t call out her affection. “Ehh, there’s room for improvement.” Varric chuckled quietly.

Silence drifted between them again. It remained still even when Cassandra turned her head to brush her lips against the side of his fingers. Varric felt them purse against the side of his palm. He tentatively arched the hand off her shoulder a bit. She leaned into it and kissed his palm.

“Did someone poison the brandy?” He smirked and whispered, afraid that any acknowledgment would break the moment.

Cassandra sighed, her hand coming up to weave her fingers between his. “No.” She looked up at him, even upside down her gaze was intense and piercing. “You joke too much.”

“I tell stories.”

“Have any new ones.”

“Depends, have you ever heard the one about the Seeker, a dwarf and four bedposts?”

Cassandra smiled and shook her head. “How does it end.”

“If we’re lucky in the early morning on a very happy note.”

“Tell me.”

“Alright.” Varric stepped back from the chair and headed backwards toward the bed. “It all starts with a single chair, a good length of rope and a very salty woman with too many questions.” He couldn’t help the smile on his face as Cassandra followed after him. If he was honest with himself, this wasn’t how he expected gifting Cassandra with flowers would end. Especially after she pulled a sheet off a chair and began twisting it.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A long break and I'm sorry. Between the end of year holidays and some in house troubles, I haven't had much time to write. Thankfully I stole a few moments to get this done. I hope the next chapter won't be such a long wait. Thanks for your patience.

Clearing the other Villas of Freemen, monsters and giants of the Emerald Graves had gone far smoother than Cassandra could have guessed. Fenris’s sword slicing legs out from under the giants made short work of the classic bane of adventures’s lives. Cassandra’s shield and quick thinking plans rooted out the Freemen from their makeshift strongholds. Viveinne was instrumental in solving a haunted house. Varric, the sly cardsmen, swindled several of Fairbanks’ men out of their money and even swayed one to join the inquisition in a bet based on trick shots.

Shockingly, Varric had kept his and Cassandra’s late night rendezvous private. As far as Cassandra knew. He had softened his sarcasm toward her and kept a loose orbit at all times. She was thankful for his silence, any discussion of it would best be done at Skyhold. In the middle of a mission wasn’t good sense, but not much more than placiating primal needs. Cassandra still needed to wrap her head around the fact it happened in the first place. Normally, Varric’s knowing smirk would annoy, it simply sent butterflies in her stomach now.

A raven was received at camp. Hardin brought it’s message over to Cassandra. The Seeker groaned and sank to sit on a stump by the fire. Fenris was the first to notice. “What is it?”

“Orders, from Skyhold.” Cassandra sighed and slouched forward. “We’re being sent to Crestwood, stop off in Skyhold.”

Fenris and Hawke shared a grim look. “There is contact of mine to meet in Crestwood.”

“But our illustrious leader is headed to the western approach once she’s done doing whatever it is she’s up to in Exalted Plains.” Varric approached, mouth half full with bread. He offered the rest to Cassandra, she took it without comment and took a bite.

Fenris and Hawke both raised an eyebrow but remained quiet. Cassandra sighed again. “It seems you, Hawke, are acting in the Inquinistions name in Crestwood while she awaits you and your contact there.”

“So that means, Dorian, Dupont, Blackwall, Sera and Arthur are headed back to Skyhold.” Vivienne summed up as she joined the impromptu meeting.

“Yes.”

Varric ran down the list of heroes in the Inquisition in his head. “Leaving, Iron Bull, the new kid Cole, Sael and Solas to go straight to the Western Approach.” He chuckled quietly to himself. “Can spirit’s bare children?”

All, save Cassandra, nodding in knowing agreeance. The Seeker paled. “What in Maker’s green earth makes you ask that?!” She balked.

Vivienne grinned darkly. “Oh darling, don’t be so naive. He means the apostate and our Inquisitor.”

“Surely, you must be joking. The Chantry has already condemned the Inquisition. The Inquisitor having an affair with an apostate could very well destroy what foundation we have. She wouldn’t take such a risk.”

“I see how Varric managed to lie to you so effectively.” Vivienne scoffed.

Varric shook his head. “Cut Seeker some slack Iron Lady. I am a master storyteller, not a liar by trade.”

“No, by hobby is more like it.”

“Don’t be jealous.” Varric winked at the enchantress. He patted Cassandra’s shoulder. “Don’t feel bad, Seeker, they have been trying to be sly about it. Not sure even Ruffles knows.”

Cassandra let her face fall into her hands. “Andraste help me…”

The sun was unrelenting in the Exalted Plains. Flies buzzed back and forth everywhere they went. Dead trees reached for the smoky skies with gnarled claws and monolithic statues dotted the landscape. Ruined building and small villages were little more than charred remains of war. There was an outcry to keep Sael and the others away from the ramparts from the first hostile encounter just beyond camp. The closest rampart had been crawling with the resurrected dead shuffling about until a body pit had been lit on fire. They had been informed that the Freemen of the Dales were there fighting, the undead had been left out in the list of points of interest for the plains. The Imperial Army was present, but suffered such heavy losses and were forced back to their forts. The attack had been so sudden that Sael didn’t get a chance to speak to Hardin when they arrived.

Hardin shook her head with a smirk. “Inquisitor.” She gestured to the dead not far from camp. “Welcome to the Exalted Plains. A place with a long and bloody history. Even now, the region is hostile. This was a front in the civil war.”

Sael nodded. “I can see that. A shame considering this land’s ancient history. Met the Freemen of the Dales, real winners there. Anything else ‘fun’ out here.”

“I don’t know if it’s fun…” Hardin was still trying to acclimate to Sael’s humor. “But there is a clan of elves out there. Not sure how they’ll take you.”

“Meaning?”

“Well, a spirit, of the Deep Roads no less. Wearing the form of an elf, championing for the Inquisition, Andraste.”

Sael raised her eyebrows and bite her lower lip. She couldn’t stop the reactionary glance to Solas. Back to Hardin. “I’m sure it’ll be...interesting regardless.”

Hardin bid the Inquisitor luck with a final urgence to help the area. Mainly the Imperial Army regain it’s footing before they were chased out by the horrors of the plains and the deserters calling themselves the Freemen. Iron Bull moved to discuss a plan of attack to cover the Exalted Plains. The two talked amongst themselves leaving Cole and Solas to stand waiting.

“Legs hurt, Mother help me, they hurt. Why must physical bodies complain so much…” Cole spoke quietly beside Solas. “She’s tired, won’t say it but she wants rest and doesn’t know how to tell The Iron Bull.”

Solas tipped his head in appreciation to the spirit of compassion. “Thank you Cole, I agree.” He quietly slipped into the warrior and Sael’s conversation. “Iron Bull, perhaps a nights rest before tackling such an expansive land would be in order. Afterall, we have arrived here with weapons swinging.”

“Strike while the iron’s hot.” Bull defended before his words processed in his head. Solas’s face was unchanged save for a glimmer in his eye. Sael choked on a restrained giggle. A second. The third broke loose a bit. “Iron Bull, that’s awful forward of you. I must decline, hot or not.” Solas smile spread as Sael fell into a fit of laughter, Iron Bull along with her.

“I’ll admit defeat on this one.” Iron Bull shook a meaty finger at Solas. “You won’t get me twice.”

Fire crackled in the middle of the group. Solas sat near Sael but apart from the group. Cole opposite, starring up into the night sky, mouthing number after number as he counted stars. Iron Bull took a deep breath and sighed.

“Krem will be fine. Patrol isn’t the danger here. It’s wolves on the roads, even though they mean well.” Cole didn’t look away from the celestial gems above. He started seeing pictures in their clusters.

Iron Bull groaned, leaning forward to half-heartedly leer at Cole. “You know, that makes about as much sense as the last one.”

Sael smirked, still working on patching a hole in her leggings. “Two, three, four times. That heel is just stomping pavement now. Couldn’t be more proud.” Sael side glanced at Iron Bull. “I’d be proud of Krem for standing up like that to. He a good boy.”

Iron Bull snapped a stick up from the fire to point at Sael. “Don’t you start to.” He tossed the stick in. “Solas, you’re an expert on spirits. Can you understand them?”

“Hm?” Solas look up from his book. “Understand? No more than you understand the greatest sexual preference of Scout Hardin.”

Iron Bull frowned. “I don’t. I don’t know her that way.”

“...”

He sighed. “Alright, I get it. No different than people.” He looked between Cole and Sael. “Both of you are spirits. But completely different personalities.”

“I’m glad you noticed.” Sael teased with a kind smile. “Cole hasn’t been on this side of the Veil for long.”

“And you?”

Sael caught Solas freeze for a second before turning a page. “I am… much older.”

“You’re dodging me, and not very well.” A predatory smile crept onto his face. “Come on, how long?”

“Rude thing to ask.” Sael feigned the insult. “But, old enough not to care about that sort of edicate, and old enough to know a lost thing or two about the Qunari and Qun.”

Iron Bull sat up a bit. “Oh yeah, like what?”

“I wouldn’t.” Solas warned Sael with an edged tone.

Sael waved him off. “You don’t get this far in life without some risky fun.” She turned back to Iron Bull. “I can show you, but it’s going to take a lot of trust and some thick skin.”

Cole looked down from the sky. “Your going to call them? Can I come? The Iron Bull might need me.”

“Up to Bull.” She baited with a smile and beckoning hand. “A bigger rush than sex, promise.”

Bull stood and took her hand, “That is a pretty high bar to beat, but alright, let’s see what ya got, boss.”

Solas gently clamped his book closed and started after the group to, what he believed, was going to be a complete disaster. Sael led them a was from the first camp, off the main road and toward the Arbor Wilds. Finally in a secluded clearing, Sael brought Iron Bull to the edge.

“Here’s where the other part of trust comes in.” Sael took a small dagger from her bag. “Not enough to kill you.” She implied the blood letting.

Iron Bull scowled and looked to Cole and Solas, both were unreadable. Cole was expected to be as much. But Solas suddenly had a stillness about him that seemed older than Bull would’ve guessed. He turned back to Sael and stretched out a hand. “...Fine.” He knew if she tried anything dangerous, he was more than prepared to defend himself. At least that was how he reassured himself.

Sael took his hand into one of hers and pricked a finger enough to gain a single thick bead of blood on the tip. She patted his arm and chuckled. “That’s it big guy.” She knelt down into the dirt, an old path in the grass made by animals. “Every path is a road to someone.” She tipped the dagger to let the blood drop into the tramped path. “Kossith.” She whispered, digging her fingers into the dirt.

“Oh,” Cole drew Iron Bull’s attention. “They’re both coming. Lovely, I’ve never been close with them.”

“Who’s coming?” Iron Bull asked, just as confused as when they left. A rush of wind nearly threw him over. He looked up at Cole to see him pointing toward Sael. Bull turned to see her face to face with a massive Qunari. He stopped mid-thought, they were Qunari but looked similar to them. Beyond them was a dragon the size of legends. Bull felt his body quiver, with what he wasn’t sure of.

To Bull’s surprise, Solas was called over first. Sael, Solas and the two newcomers spoke for a minute that seemed to stretch for hours as Bull waited with bated breath. Iron Bull took the time to look over the creatures they talked to. The dragon was covered in massive spikes and a mouth full of equally intense teeth. It’s eyes darting over everything, constantly squirming where it rested.

The other was in armor unfamiliar to Bull from any era of the Qunari. There was no clear sign of their rank or gender. They looked to be nothing more than the embodiment of power, confidence and command. Everything an Ashiok ever wanted to be for the Qun. He was fixed on the horns, where Qunari sported two with occasionally smaller branches coming off, this one sported three huge horns like its dragon companion’s frill.

Sael waved Iron Bull over. It took the Qunari a moment to react. Sael motioned for him to stop beside her, in place of Solas. “The Iron Bull,” He gestured her hands through the introductions. “I’d like for you to meet the spirits of Por Vollen, Kossith and Ataashi.” Her hands reversed. “Kossith and Atasshi, The Iron Bull.”

Kossith leveled a scrutinizing eye down at Iron Bull. “You are Qun? Imekari-Kossith?”

Iron Bull could only nod.

“Maraas kata.” Kossith raised an arm to welcome Bull to come closer. “Come, there is much to correct. The Imekari have lost their way”


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW content

Dawn’s first light broke over the horizon. Piercing the final traces of night to briefly blind Iron Bull. He was deep in conversation with Kossith and Ataashi. The pair were overflowing with revelations and answers the Qun had sought for ages. The reason for the Kossith’s migration. The initial intent of the Qun and how parts of it had been corrupted and twisted by time. Iron Bull looked to the sun and back to Kossith. He had forgotten that they were spirits. A harsh reminder dropped in his lap as Ataashi began to fade away. Kossith clapped Iron Bull hard on the shoulder and wished the young Qunari good fortunes and mighty battles ahead before leaving him standing alone. Iron Bull stared at the space Kossith and Ataashi occupied for a moment longer before heading back to the tents. Cole was still awake, lurking quietly between tents. There was no sign of Solas or Sael. He didn’t need to strain his powers of deduction to know where they were. Gently pushing back the flap of the tent closest to Cole to see the two wrapped together sleeping soundly. Iron Bull smirked and took a seat by the fire that a soldier was trying to resurrect. He watched the fire begin to grow as he dwelled on his thoughts. Perhaps spirits really weren’t as bad as the Qun made them out to be.

My friend, help me!

Solas sat up too fast, his head spun wildly as he immediately processed the outcry in his dream. He pushed a palm to an eye in effort to shove back the pain of the blood rush. He groaned painfully, swinging a leg out from beneath the furs. Sael stirred, groaning before resuming snoring into the straw pillow. Solas rose from the cot, leaving his tunic on the chair to find his reflection in the mirror. Violet swirling eyes locked through glass. The voice he heard was an old friend, another spirit he’d known since his earliest days. He splashed water on his face, rubbing the sleep away. He glanced at Sael’s sleeping form, his expression sank. “What are you doing, Old Wolf?” He whispered under his breath. So many things crashed through his mind, it quickly began to spiral into discordant noise.

“...Solas.” Sael’s head rose and twisted to see the shape of him at the mirror. He didn’t answer right away. “Fen’Heral?”

He snapped out of his thoughts with a small jolt. Solas looked over his shoulder to see Sael raising to her elbows. “It’s…” he considered lieing, “A friend. I heard them call for help in my dreams.”

“Another spirit?”

“Yes.”

Sael moved faster, climbing out of the cot and quickly dressing. “No time then, let’s go.”

“Just like that?” Solas was surprised.

She shrugged. “What, did you expect me to be a jealous lover or disgruntled girlfriend.” He smiled weakly at her. “I am much too old for that nonsense. You’re leading, I’ll get the boys.” Solas perked up as Sael headed out first to gather Cole and Iron Bull.

Cole sat behind Sael as they rode across the Exalted Plains ignoring demons and rifts along the way. Iron Bull and Sael flanked either side of Solas borrowed horse. All three mounts panted and snorted at the consistent spurring from their riders. Sael’s horse protested the most, expected given that it bore two riders. Cole hugged arms and legs around Sael’s body, constantly muttering apologies to the horse as they ran at a blistering speed. It wasn’t long till the all too familiar sounds of a demon roaring reached the party. 

They barely managed to stop the horses from barreling over a group of mages a short distance from the roar’s source. Solas dismounted in a hurry and stormed over, casting a heartbroken expression toward the demon for a split second. Even faster resumed his rage and leveled the full scope of his ire at the mage. The growl that came from Solas was nearly as twisted as the demon crouching in the magic circle.

Sael stopped beside him, attention fixed on the demon. Cole remained clinging to her back, looking over her shoulder. “Oh, Solas, oh no…” Sael felt her heart and stomach plummet. “What have they done?”

“Spirits become demons when denied their original purpose.” He still glared at the mage nervously fiddling with his hands.

“Wisdom.” Cole whispered. Sael motioned for Iron Bull to pry Cole off of her. The spirit of compassion didn’t resist Bull prying him free and tucking him under the Qunari’s arm.

Sael finally looked at the mage. “Wisdom denied. Fighting.”

“Let’s ask them.” Solas seethed.

The mage managed to untangle his tongue enough to speak. “You’re not with the bandits?” He looked between Sael and Solas, they didn’t look helpful. He resigned to looking to Iron Bull now. “Do you have any lyrium potions. Most of us are exhausted from fighting that demon…”

“You SUMMONED that demon!” Solas snapped, taking two big steps toward the mage. An angry staff head pointed in his face. “Except…! It was a spirit of wisdom at the time. You made it KILL. You twisted it against its purpose!”

“I-I-I understand how it might be confusing to someone who has not studied demons. But after you help us-” The mage scrambled madly for any plausible explanation for his defense.

“We are not here to help you.” The venom, disgust and rage was boiling over every word Solas spat out behind clenched teeth.

“Do not patronize me, human. I am a spirit and you are clearly talking out of your ass.” Sael hissed. “A Fade expert and the spirit of the Deep Roads and you dare lecture us?”

Cole clicked his tongue, head shaking. “I don’t think the other mage is making friends.”

Iron Bull shook his head. “Nope, not really.” He let Cole go to stand on his own. He watched Sael and Solas verbally gutting the mage as he continued to try and defend himself.

“Should we tell them that the human mage has pooped his small clothes when Solas yelled at him?” Cole asked with the sort of tone one would use when asking about the weather. 

“If I can smell from here, they know.” Iron Bull shook his head again. 

“Shut up!” Solas cut the mage off again. “You summoned it, to protect you from the bandits.”

“I...yes.”

“You bound it to obedience. Then ordered it to kill. That’s when it turned.” Solas ran down the events that could lead up to the current situation. He finally broke his gaze from the mage, turning to Sael. “The summoning circle. We break it. We break the binding. No orders to kill, no conflict with it’s nature. No demon.”

“Risky gamble.” Iron Bull looked to the demon, sizing it up for things to go bad.

“To save a friend.” Cole added.

“What!” The mage stumbled back a bit. “That binding is the only thing keeping the demon from killing us! Whatever it was before, it’s a demon now!”

Sael nodded. “No time to waste. Let’s save your friend.”

Solas barely had time to thank her before her and Iron Bull rushed at the first pillar of the circle. He pleaded for them to hurry as he ran after them. The corrupted spirit charged after Iron Bull only to be greeted by a slash to its leg from Cole. It whipped around to lash him with razor sharp claws, it only managed to rip through air as Cole vanished again. Sael reached out to gain control of the stone stalagmites that formed the binding circle. It took more than her usual push to gain ownership of the stone but it eventually gave and the first one crumbled. At the sametime, Iron Bull bashed through the second one with his axe. Solas worked quickly to weaken the next while juggling barriers to protect the others from an angry pride demon. With the group working together the binding circle fell away to release it hold on the demon. The pride demon melted into a humanoid spirit flickering in the afternoon sun. The party stopped their attacks as Solas rushed over to his friend.

He dropped to a knee to be eye level with the dying spirit. “Lethallin, ar abelas.” He managed through a strained whisper.

A ghost of a smile crept on her face. “Tel’abelas. Ensal. Er tel’him.” She looked away from Solas. “Ma melava halani. Mala suledin nadas. Ma gillana mir din’an.”

Solas turned away from her returned gaze. He closed his eyes as he felt his heart sinking. Finally looking back at her, “Ma nuvenin.” He raised his hands and made a simple gesture that dissolved the spirit away from the frayed threads holding her in the world. She was broken and unable to return to the veil as she was. He knew it was the kindest thing he could do for his friend. “Dareth shiral.”

Cole and Sael stood on either side. Iron Bull remained quiet in respect. Sael spoke barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry, Solas.”

“Don’t be.” Solas stood, turning to face the group. But that was all, his gaze was distant and inward. He wasn’t truly seeing anyone. “We gave it a moment's peace before the end. That’s more than it might have had.” His melancholy dropped as he turned to face the offending mages with ire in his eyes. “All that remains now is them.”

Three came back to the party, the same man from before and two women. “Thank you. We would not have risked a summoning, but the roads are too dangerous to travel unprotected.” He approached Solas with an apologetic face.

Solas quickly closed the distance left between them. The mages scrambling back. “You tortured and killed my friend!” He didn’t stop until they were backed against a dirt wall along the road.

“We didn’t know it was just a spirit. The book said it could help us!” They huddled together, frantically throwing panicked expressions toward Sael, Bull and Cole.

They remained still and silent.

Fire suddenly engulfed the offending mages. Their screams silenced as fast as they rose in a torrent of blistering flames. Solas didn’t let up till there was little more than ash piles at his feet. Once their smoldering piles satisfied his rage he let out a quiet sigh in pain. “I…” He barely cast a look over his shoulder in the direction of the others. “I need some time alone. I will meet you back at Skyhold.”

“Solas.” Sael stepped forward, a slight raise in Solas’s hand stopped her. “In the morning. Rest, please.”

He turned and looked over Iron Bull and Cole before answering Sael. “Sael Alas’en, my…” he stopped himself. “I am not good company for you right now. I am merely a collection of energy that is choosing to suffer and grieve in unison. Let me spare you that this once.” With no argument from her, he walked away. Slower then he wanted and with a heavy heart weighed by the pained expression he left on Sael’s face.

Sael stepped back to stand with Iron Bull and Cole. “Walking through tar and broken glass, don’t turn back. Keep moving, don’t look at her eyes, don’t watch the road in front of me…” Her face sank a bit. “Cole, why does this hurt so much? Why can’t I help?”

“It’s not time to help yet.” He answered flatly with a tilt of his head.

Bull groaned a bit and pulled Sael over into a tight hug. The height difference buried her face in his sternum. “Come on, Boss, you need a drink. A real one.” He squeezed a bit tighter and carried her as is toward the camp. “The plains can wait.”

The ride back to Skyhold was strained at first. Thanks to some additional insight from Cole, Iron Bull was able to cheer the Inquisitor up by the time they rode through the gate. Skyhold was abuzz with excitement when Sael and the others returned. The other teams had been back for almost a week already. Josephine was among the crowd to greet her. Though the others came to bombard her with updates and thousands of questions, it was Josephine and Varric who drove the others back. Sael escaped to her room. Skyhold and the bedroom were cleaned up as much as possible to give it a respectable appearance to visiting dignitaries and high class wishing to pledge aid if things checked out to their standards. Several were displeased with being blown off, Josephine swooped in to soothe ruffled feathers and stroke egos to turn their negative review around.

It was a couple days before Sael emerged again to face the eager horde that gathered at Skyhold. Cullen was the shortest visit. He laid out updates regarding troops and battle tactics. When Sael offered nothing in the form of a question, he excused himself. The former Templar rocketed up the list of people she liked. Leliana was also blessedly brief in her visit. The spymaster rarely had anything outside her knowledge. Much more, she knew what exactly people wanted and needed to hear. Cole and Iron Bull found their own spots within the fortress grounds. The merc captain in the back of the tavern. Cole above in the rafters, ever listening for those that needed his help. Blackwall and Arthur made a short intrusion on Sael’s time. A summary of their time in Emprise Du Lion. Dorian and Dupont left her to find them if she needed them.

Sera made her presence known by means of an inflated bladder on a chair that erupted with a farting noise when Sael sat. It was harmless and left the Inquisitor laughing so hard she had to excuse herself. Vivienne and Josphine took the largest portions of time. Josphine with needs of approval or rejection for designs on the fortress. Diplomatic debates that she wasn’t comfortable making on her own. Vivienne with her summary of the adventure in the Emerald Graves. She was interrupted by Cassandra coming in with her version of events. The women squabbled until Sael separated them and took both of their versions and cobbled together a tangible series of events. She visited Varric for clarification and a much needed game of Wicked Grace. They were joined by Hawke and Fenris for the second round. Everything looked like a ceaseless stream of updates and problems.

“He’s returned.” Cole suddenly came to attention to the group playing Wicked Grace. Fenris reacted first, jumping up and reaching for a sword that wasn’t there. Hawke pulled him to his seat.

Sael snapped her attention to Cole. “Solas?” Cole only had to raise his head to nod before she took off.

Rounded the corner, gripping the stone wall to avoid flying into the opposite wall. Sael ran through the crowd of visitors and aristocrats to reach the main doors. At the top of the stairs she stopped short to see that Cole was right. Solas was walking beneath the portcullis when Sael caught sight of him. He made a steady pace and no one stopped him. Taking the steps, two at a time, she rushed down to welcome back and find out how he was.

“Solas!” Sael’s call caught his attention. The distant expression was replaced by a comforting smile. “I’m happy you came back.” She didn’t stop in front of him, instead crashed into his chest to hug him tightly. “I was worried you’d left.” She squeezed tighter for a moment as he returned the hug and let her stand back. “How are you?”

“It hurts.” He looked wounded as he did in the Exalted Plains. “It always does, but I will survive.”

“Thank you for coming back.”

Solas nodded, his face softening again. “You’ve been a true friend. Did everything you could to help.” He tried to smirk. “Could hardly abandon you now.”

“The road less taken not so tempting?”

Solas chuckled quietly. “You are the road less taken, or did you forget.”

“Just missing that wit of yours.”

He raised an eyebrow, a mischievous grin flashed across his face. “‘Wit”? I can’t recall anyone asking for a night in my bed so...brazenly.”

“Only if you’re offering.” She stepped aside to gesture for them to walk together. “We’re both too old to play cat and mouse. Where did you go though?”

“Either of us are hardly cat or mouse, and the roles are equally ambiguous for us both.” He brushed a finger against the back of her hand as they walked into Skyhold. He sighed. “Oh I found a quiet spot and went to sleep. I visited the place in the Fade where my friend used to be.”

“...”

“It’s empty.” Sorrow flickered. “But there are stirrings of energy in the Void. Someday something new may grow there.”

Sael nodded. “I can only hope whoever grows there remembers you. You do leave a lasting impression on spirits afterall.”

“A pleasant thought, however unlikely.”

“Fatalist.” Sael teased a bit. They slipped through the crowds. A servant dropping a platter suddenly drew attention allowing Solas and Sael to dart into her room. “Finally, can talk without prying eyes and hungry gossip mongers eavesdropping.”

Solas stretched a bit. “Indeed. Hard to accomplish much without the spymasters eyes and ears hovering.”

Sael went to the desk to sit at the edge. “Solas.” Her tone lost it’s teasing edge. “The next time you need to mourn, you don’t need to be alone.”

He nodded, walking over to stand at her feet, “It’s been too long since I could trust someone.”

“I know.” 

“More than most.” Solas leaned into her palm cupping his cheek. He parted her knees to stand between them. He lowered his head to rest on her shoulder, face nestled against her neck. “Guarding against enemies and potential friends.”

“Friends?” She ran her fingers up and down the back of his neck.

He nodded, a breathy snort. “Enemies you expect to attack you, but a friend is the only one who can betray you. A facade is the only way to truly remain safe.”

A witty answer halted on the tip of her tongue. Timing stopped her. “Not everyone gets the same version of me either. One person might tell you I am a blessing. Another might tell you I’m a cold hearted bitch. Both of them are right, I don’t treat people badly. I treat them accordingly and watch them all closely.”

“So where does that leave us? A pair of fatalists playing a long game with the Inquisition and even longer one in the shadows?”

Sael sighed loudly, leaning forward to wrap her legs closer to his body and rest her chin on his shoulder. “Ohhh I’d say in need of three days of sleep, a strong drink and in need of a good fucking. I can’t tell which is more important to be honest.”

He leaned back to look her in the face. “Taking into account that spoiling myself with a chance at a companion again...the most logical thing to do here would be by ease of access.”

“I love it when you talk dirty.” Sael laughed, suring up her grip on his shoulders as he lifted her off the desk. “Right now, you’re doing too much of it.”

“I have a remedy for that.” Solas carried her over to the bed, letting her drop onto the feather and fleece stuffed mattress. He worked the bands around his wrist as Sael sat up to pull his belts free and work her own clothing off.

Freed of his tunic and Sael’s nearly gone, Solas gracefully dove down to trap her arms and top of her face in the shirt. His lips pressed firm against her. The smile that formed against his was a welcome feeling. Solas’s tongue finding no resistance as it plunged into her mouth. Rapid breaths and hungry groans followed the two as they fought off the remaining clothes and worked their way up the bed. Clothing was tossed away with total disregard. Fingers snaked across bare flesh, memorizing every reaction they sparked from the other. A knee parted legs to let their bodies meld together.

It was only seconds but it felt like hours dragged by. Solas’s patience died out as his cock became harder with every touch from Sael. Her legs wrapped around his own to make a welcoming trap. He turned his hand on her breast, sliding it down her ribs, stomach and along the bones of her hip. Past his his own twitching shaft to feel along her lips. Hot and slick, she was as eager as he was. Expertly hooking two fingers deep into the spirit arched her back of the bed for a moment. He moved his mouth from her lips to her neck, the groan rising from her made the hair on his body stand on end. Swirling and wiggling his fingers slowly thrust back and forth. Her muttering pleas matched his breath as it steadily became more haggard. Teasing was unbearable now.

Her arms wrapped around his chest, fingers searching for purchase along his muscles. He groaned deeply against her neck as he slid his fingers free. He gripped either side of her hips and moved her to just feel the tip of his head pressing against her lips. Sael moaned his name, body writhe in his hands in anticipation. It was now or never, his self control wasn’t going to hold out much longer.

He took a deep breath sitting up and fought the last few seconds of Sael’s encouraging bodying and pleading moans. Like a whip cracking in the back of his mind he thrust into Sael. She bolted up, a wild hungry smile on her face, to crash up against him. Both let out pleased moans as he slowly pulled back and thrusted again. A few more to find his rhythm and soon found himself bracing the two of them with one hand on the footboard of the bed. The other wrapped around her waist. Struggling to maintain the passionate kisses as his thrusts bounced Sael on his hips. A surprise twist of her hips sent a core shaking shockwave through his body. Sael stole the opportunity to have at his neck as he had hers with equal vigor. Solas knew his climax was approaching. Her body gripping his cock tighter with every thrust now. The heat from their bodies was unfathomable. He managed between breaths to ask her to roll her hip again. They were so close. So close.

The howling scream startled Josphine. It came from the Inquisitor's room causing her to spill an inkwell over the letter she had been working on. The duke that had been talking to her turned several shades of red and excused himself. Josephine dropped her head onto the desk. Things had been much quieter and calm when Sael was out.

Exhausted, breathless and grinning like fools, Solas and Sael remained locked after their climax. Sael had no thoughts, merely basked in the afterglow. Solas had thousands of things running through his, but nothing he could form anything solid from let alone care about at the moment. A gentle kiss against her forehead, he helped Sael off and stretch out on the blankets. Both of them glistened with sweat and neither had breath enough to leave the bed. Solas collapsed beside her.

“How’s that for wit?” He chuckled between gasps for air.

“I’d offer some sarcastic or well worded praise, but…” Sael trailed off.

“But?”

Sael looked over at him, her face just beaming with joy. “Love, I would give you a standing ovation, but I don’t think my legs work right now.”

Solas laughed. A hearty, joyful laugh. It was a first, in centuries, to laugh like that. Even if only for a moment, all the problems of the ancient elvhen and the needs of the Inquisition didn’t exist.

Sael laughed with him for a moment. It faded to the two staring into each other's eyes. He saw something click in the stone grey of her eyes. She smiled warmly. “I love you.”

Solas froze.

“...” Her smile faltered for a second.

His mind raced. Calculating, weighing pros and cons. “I…” He stammered, not wanting to say it if the feeling wasn’t there. The dangers of his plans. Could he truly bring her into his schemes. The path of death he’s set himself on. Could he…  
“Stop thinking and speak the truth.”

“From the Dread Wolf, the trickster”

“A Dalish misunderstanding.” Sael noted. “I mean it, Fen’Harel, I love you.”

His face softened, thoughts quieted. He brought a hand up to cup her cheek. “Sael Alas’en, I love you to.”

“You had to think about it.” Sael looked worried. “Why do you love me?”

Solas moved to slide his other arm under neck and pull her close to him. “I fell in love with you, because you’ve loved me when I couldn’t do it for myself. It’s hard work and for that I thank you.”

Sael welcomed the embrace and wrapped her arms around him as well. She spoke against his collarbone. “It’s not hard work if it’s you.”

He chuckled, kissing the top of her head. “Masochist.”

“I love you too, fatalist.” Sleep took them both laying undressed on the bed, warmed by the late afternoon sun.


	30. Chapter 30

Josephine jotted a few deliberate notes on her parchment board before bringing judgement to order. “You recall Gereon Alexius of Tevinter. Ferelden has given him to us as acknowledgment of your aid.” She saw Sael fidget in the throne crafted for her official seat of power and station. “The formal charges are apostasy, attempted enslavement, and attempted assination, on your life, no less.” Alexius, Dorian’s former master and friend was hauled forward shackled. A shadow of the man he was. “Tevinter has disowned and stripped him of rank. You may judge the former magister as you see fit.”

Alexius was silent, head hanging.

The memory of Solas’s body hurled across the floor in the twisted future Alexius would have ushered forth, had he not been stopped, flashed in her mind. “I remember.” She fought to remain unbiased sounding. “Everything, the nightmare you would have unleashed.”

“I couldn’t save my son.” Alexius shot back, he was bitter. Understandably. “Do you think my fate matters to me?”

“And I should show mercy for that?”

“Only as much as the rope you would hang me for on the crimes I had yet to commit.” He growled.

“Without my return, ‘yet’ would have been a matter of fact.” Sael bucked against mental restraint to charge the man and remind him of what she saw.

Josephine sensed a circular argument about to erupt and interjected. “Will you offer nothing in your defense.”

Alexius looked as if he was about to spit at the notion. “You’ve won nothing. The people you saved, the acclaim you’ve gathered - you’ll lose it all in the storm to come.”

“You did first as I see it.”

“Render your judgement, Inquisitor.” Alexius bristled at the veiled insult.

Sael huffed once. “I should have you broken and put to good use. By why let you roam free after what you did. After hurting the one I care for most. No,” Sael took a deep breath. “Lock him away. In the deepest, darkest, hole we can find. Then promptly lose the key.”

“Death would be preferable.”

“Death is a gift you will have to earn. The dead don’t learn.” Sael dismissed the former magister to his fate and cell.

Josephine recorded the minutes for the judgement and called the next to be brought before the Inquisitor. “This was a surprise. After returning from the bogs, Fallow Mire, we discovered this man, attacking the building.” she gestured to the avvar man brought forth. He wore mud caked goat pelts and two large goat horns arching high off the top of his head. Two more on either side of his head. He exuded confidence, more than a prisoner should be able to. “With a...goat.”

Sael snickered. She had been informed several times about the avvar man hurling goats at the fortress walls. “I heard.” She covered her smile with a hand.

“Chief Movran the Under. He feels slighted by the killing of his tribesmen.” Josephine looked as if she was aging by the seconds. “Who repeatedly attacked you first.” She took a moment to compose herself. “What should we do with him? Where should he go?”

“With a goat?” Sael raised an eyebrow, a chuckle lurking at the back of her throat.

Movran laughed, softer than Sael expected. “A courtroom? Unnecessary!” He looked about the throne room and then back to the Inquisitor. “You killed my idiot son, and I answered, as is my custom, by smacking your holdings with goat’s blood.”

Josphine stole a glance, expecting to see a confused Sael. Instead there was amusement. Dread seeded itself in Josephine’s mind.

“No foul.” Movran continued. “He meant to murder Tevinters, but got fiesty with your Inquisition. A redheaded mother guarantees a brat!” He nodded once to Sael. “Do as you’ve earned, Inquisitor. My clan yields. My remaining boys have brains still in their heads.” He laughed warmly.

Sael opened her mouth and closed it even faster. “I need a moment to consider.” She pointed to Iron Bull, Cole and Solas to follow her into the passageway leading to her room. Once beyond the door she asked Cole and Bull to guard the main door while she consulted with Solas.

Solas asked nothing, simply waited.

“I want this guy.” Sael started. “I like him. He’s got balls of steel and honor.”

“You just like the fact he responds to his child’s death by chuckling goats at a fortress.” Solas added with a smirk.

Sael sighed, slightly defeated. “Must you expose me so easily? Alright, yes, that is part of it.” She smirked back.

“It’s your call as Inquisitor.” Solas pointed out. “I have no say in this.”

“No, I want this guy for the long game.”

“Oh.” He perked up an eyebrow. “I see, well…” He thought for a long moment.

Time crawled by. “...You have the right to claim his forces and clan under the Inquisition banner…”

“But?”

“But should he object or become suspicious of anything, his men and clan will remain loyal to him.” Solas pressed a knuckle to his lips in thought. “...” His brow furrowed. “Take Movran, send his clan and children to Tevinter to resume their desire to kill the people of Tevinter.”

Sael bite her lower lip. “Do you think he’ll take the deal?”

“If not, banish him along with the clan to Tevinter.”

Sael nodded, quickly stole a kiss before rushing back to the judgement in session. Iron Bull and Cole let her bolt past and back to the throne chair. “I’ve made my decision.” The court waited, breath held. Even Movran froze in curiosity. “I banish your clan and remaining children to Teviner.” A collective gasp washed over the crowd. “With as many weapons as you can carry.”

Movran snorted. “My idiot boy got us something after all.” He realized his punishment was left out of the decree. “You’re not done.”

“No, I’m not.” Sael leaned forward to sit on the edge of the throne. “Chief Movran, I am offering you a place here in the Inquisition as a warrior.”

The throne room collapsed into confused, panicked whispers of protest. Cullen and his soldiers quickly silenced them. Movran shook his head. “We are out to kill Tevinters. Not get entangled in whatever crusade you’re committing to.”

“We are going to kill a nasty evil Tevinter mage. All his Venatori and twisted Red Templars.”

“One Tevinter mage hunt is hardly equal prey to abandon my clan.”

“Not just a mage, one of the mages who violated the Golden City.” Sael sweetened the deal.

Movran’s eyes widened a bit as his smile grew. “I’m listening.”

“Not barring you from returning to your clan or to change your customs. Hell, throw goats at Corypheus all you want. You have an attitude I want in this hunt.” 

“Son-of-a-bitch.” He thrust his shackled wrist at a nearby soldier. “I’m in.”

The court's reaction varied wildly. Dorian looked mildly disturbed. Vivienne looked like a mix of equal parts confused and impressed. Sera howled with laughter. Blackwall, Arthur and Iron Bull all pleased with Sael. Cole and Solas remained their usual unreadable. A glint in Solas’s eye let her know he was just as amused as she was.

Dupont rifled through parchments of dress designs and swatches of fabric samples. He had buried himself in the task set to him from Josephine. Create a dress for the inquisitor for the Orlasian court. A ball and peace talks were being arranged by the empress and her cousin Gaspard. The Inquisitor hadn’t received an invitation, but Josephine assured Curio that they would be attending. No point in arguing, very little ever managed to stand in Josephines way in the long run of things. Dorian had returned more than a week ago, but with the defeat, capture and now imprisonment of Alexius, he’d grown distant. In need of a distraction, he dropped his work and went in search of Dorian.

In the library, a circular second level of the rotunda, Dorian was found pacing with a letter in hand. Curio approached quietly and waited. Dorian remained engrossed in the document. “Anything interesting?”

Dorian looked up as if he knew Curio had been waiting there. “A letter regarding Felix, Alexius’s son.”

Curio waited again.

“He went to the magisterium. Stood on the senate floor and told them of Sael.” He chuckled. “A glowing testimonial, I’m informed.”

“Oh I bet they just loved that.”

Dorian smirked. “No news on the reaction, but everyone back home is talking.. Felix was always as good as his word.”

“‘Was’?” Curio caught the odd use of tense.

Dorian’s smile sank. “He’s dead. The blight caught up with him.”

“Are you alright?” Curio moved to stand closer, slowly stroking Dorian’s arm.

His tone remained unchanged from his usual. “He was ill, and thus on borrowed time anyhow.”

Curio tried to sound comforting. “Doesn’t mean you can’t regret his death.”

“I know.” Dorian let his gaze unfocus, lost in a memory. “Felix used to sneak me treats from the kitchens when I was working late in his father’s study.” He grinned. “...’Don’t get into trouble on my behalf.’ I’d tell him. ‘I like trouble.’ he’d say. Tevinter could use more mages like him. Those who put the good of others above themselves.”

“Were the two of you…?” Curio trailed off, letting his question be filled in by Dorian.

Dorian looked back at Curio. “Felix and I?” His cheerful tone and smirk returned. “What an odd question.” He shook his head. “No, I had no intention of abusing Alexius’s hosptiality by seducing his son. Not that I’ve been proper my whole life, by any means. It wasn’t like that.”

Curio chuckled with Dorian.

“Even in illness, Felix was the best of us. With him around, you knew things could be better.” Dorian continued.

“Better than you?” Curio elbowed him.

Dorian feigned insult. “How could you assume something so egregious.” His spirits lifted, stepping to the railing, cupping his hands to his mouth. “Everyone! Come and see how good I look!”

There was no reply until a door was heard heaving open and Varric hollowering back. “You have a mirror, Sparkler!” His laugh mixed with Curio and Dorian’s.

Rested and eager to get back on the road again, Sael selected her team for Crestwood. They were headed to meet Hawke’s contact in Crestwood. With that in mind she chose to take Iron Bull, Solas, Varric and Cole. Cassandra and Vivienne were left as Sael’s advocate. With everything in place, the party rode behind the forces of the Inquisition moving to occupy space in Crestwood.

So close to Storm Coast, no one found it shocking that it was pouring rain when they arrived. It was a dreary filter cast over what was to be a quaint peaceful hamlet nest beside Ferelden’s largest lake. They arrived at night to find Scout Harding directing a few soldiers, they saluted and left the scout to address Sael and her party.

“Good to see you safe, Inquisitor.” Harding smiled and gave a brief salute. “We’ve got trouble ahead.”

Sael shrugged. “And here I was hoping for a nice moonlit picnic on a ferry across the lake.”

“I’m sure the few Red Templars here would like to crash that party, but for once they aren’t the main problem.”

“What is?”

Harding motioned for Sael to follow her to a view of the lake. Churning in the distance was the tell-tale signs of a rift submerged in the lake itself. Sael slumped a bit. “Oh.”

“Crestwood was the site of a flood ten years ago during the Blight.” Harding nodded. “It’s not the only rift in the area, but after it appeared, corpses started walking out of the lake. You’ll have to fight through them to get to the cave where Ser Hawke’s Grey Warden friend is hiding.”

“But first swim.” Sael crossed her arms over her chest. “I never traveled through rifts like this. I can’t help but wonder if lake water is just pouring into the Fade right now.”

Varric and Iron Bull traded puzzled but amused looks. They turned to Solas. “Well, Chuckles, you are the resident Fade expert.”

Solas flicked a hand towards Sael. “And she’s a spirit, one of the earliest. If she doesn’t know, what makes you think I would?”

“You’re the experimental guy.” Varric bore a mischievous grin.

“Behind closed doors, perhaps.” Sael shot over her shoulder, a gleeful sinister look on her face.

Varric threw his hands up and turned to walk away. Iron Bull looked at Solas. “I would’ve never guessed…”

Solas winked in reply.

“You know.” Harding cut in. “maybe someone in Crestwood can tell you how to get to the rift in the lake. Maker knows they’ll want help.”

Sael turned back to business at hand. “Better than backstroking out there.”

“Good luck, and please be safe.” Harding clapped Sael’s arm and went back to her work.

With Harding gone, Sael turned to the others. “Pouring rain and a rift guzzling a seemingly bottomless lake. I vote for getting shelter and a boat.”

The other nodded in agreement. “Advisable, unless any of us are wanting to catch our deaths out there.” Solas nodded to the road beside them. “Only one way to go.”

There was no need for further debate. They kept to a brisk pace on the road. Passing abandoned vendor carts, a small pebble beach with empty fisherman’s rowboat tied to a rotting post. A sign above, ‘Old Crestwood’. Further up the road they heard the sounds of a fight. Sael and the others rushed onward and came to find a pair of Grey Warden’s working through the last few corpses that ambushed a woman. Sael called a spike of stone to spear the last one from attacking them in their blindspot. They nodded in respect and sheathed their weapons as Sael approached.

“The Grey Wardens thank you for your aid, Inquisitor.” One said as the other cleaned his blade.

She shook it off, “It’s fine, but if you don’t mind, what are the Grey Wardens doing out here in Crestwood?”

“A Warden named Stroud is wanted for questioning.” He answered, hands on his hips, looking up the road ahead as if Stroud would appear. “We heard he’d passed through here, but the villagers knew nothing. They have trouble enough.”

“What can you tell me about Stroud?”

The Wardens paused. “Warden-Commander Clarel ordered his capture. I can say no more than that.”

The other spoke up. “I sure hope Ser Stroud comes with us peacefully. I trained under him for a time. He’s a good man, I’m sure of that.”

“Sure.” Sael coughed. “So you know Crestwood is suffering. You going to stay and help?”

“My orders forbid it.” The first one answered. “Crestwood is only a detour.”

Sael’s face drained of expression. “...”

“If the Inquisition can help, I beg you do what you can.” He pleaded. “The villagers have lost too many.”

“Some orders.” Sael growled. “I’ll be sure to let the mourning know they were a detour to a manhunt.”

“Boss…” Iron Bull understood hard orders to follow. He’d been in their boots before.

Sael shook her head. “Farewell.” She left the Wardens to check on the woman in the cabin. “Bull, in the Deep Roads, blindly following and ignoring the screams around you can be a worse memory than a broken promise.”

“...” Iron Bull considered the moral quandary. “Hard to justify saving a town at the cost of a country.”

“Not to the little guy that watches the heroes run by to save that country.” Varric cut in.

“Empires can be saved all the while helping those affected by the larger picture.” Solas added. “The trouble is accepting the ability to make those hard choices. Abandon a front that would win the war just to stop and save the family being attacked by bandits only for that family to starve in a month's time while regimes change hands.”

“There is no regime without that family’s support. No cities without roads to connect them.” Sael closed the debate curtly. She was angry recalling her plea that Arthur take control of the Grey Wardens. He had turned it down, claiming he wasn’t the right man for the job. How far the Wardens had fallen in her eyes.

“Let’s hope this Stroud has better news for us than this.” Solas kept close to Seal.


	31. Chapter 31

The Last spirit dissolved into fragments to float away to the distant rift in the lake. Sael dropped the rocky bracers to return to the road beneath her. Crestwood was blanketed in the deep unbreaking shadows of massive storm clouds. Rain a constant battering, unrelenting as if to add insult to injury on the town already suffering. With the demons cleared from the gate, the town opened to the Inquisition party. The air of Crestwood was as dreary as the weather. The dwindling members of the town began peeking out from behind barricaded doors and hastily boarded windows. The intensely watched the party making their way into the town proper. Those who were brave enough offered only desperate pleas for help. Salvation. It was toward the back of the town, up a flight of stone steps with statues of countries beloved Marbari guarding the last step. A sharp turn right and they stood in front of a house belonging to Crestwood’s mayor.

The inside was dimly lit with candles. Hardly bigger than any of the other homes in the town. Signs of a man who lived the same means of his townsfolk. He greeted Sael and the others. “Mayor Dedrick of Crestwood.” His smile was strained. “At your service, despite everything.” Sael introduced herself and the others. Dedrick looked everyone over, a worried eye taking in everything he could about them. “Are you...here to stop the undead?”

Varric nodded. He cleared his throat remembering he wasn’t the one making choices for the group. “We will, right? I mean, these people are terrified.”

Iron Bull agreed with Varric. “It wasn’t on the list of things to do, but we can’t let this go on.”

“Agreed.” Solas’s voice sounded wounded. “This much undue suffering is something we cannot ignore.”

Sael looked over her shoulder. “As if I was going to say no in the first place.” She turned back to Dedrick. “The undead are appearing because of a rift in the Fade.” She vaguely gestured in the direction of the drowning rift’s direction beyond the walls. “How can we get to it?”

Dedrick paled a bit. “The light in the lake? It’s coming from the old caves below Crestwood. Darkspawn flooded it ten years ago during the blight. It wiped out the whole village, killing the refugees we took in.”

“I saw a dam.” Iron Bull noted aloud. “If we use it to drain the lake, we can get to the Fade rift.”

All the color left in Dedrick’s face vanished. “Drain the-” he took a deep breath. “There must be another way?”

The others all glanced around at each other. “Of course. But the time, resources and success are all rather intolerable for this circumstance.” Solas and Iron Bull both felt red flags spring up at the mayor’s reluctance.

“The Inquisition is trying to help.” Varric added. “Roads here is the only one who can close rifts, clear out your undead problem and you want a different option beyond flipping a switch?” Suspicion was rampant.

“You’d have to evict the bandits in the old fort to use the dam.” Dedrick cautioned the group. “I can’t ask you to risk your life.”

“The. Dead. Are invading.” Sael stated the obvious, but louder and slower than Dedrick would have liked. “Or are you comfortable fighting wave after wave of corpses coming for tea while we find buckets to scoop the lake out in a fire brigade line?”

“I…” Dedrick sighed, defeated. “I suppose it must come to this.” He sounded more like he was mourning for himself rather than swallowing his pride. “This key unlocks the gate to the dam controls past the fort. The rift must be under old Crestwood.” Sael took the key from him. He raised a hand to stop her. “But Inquisitor… I would not linger.”

“I linger where the road takes me.” Sael clutched the key and leveled a cold gaze at the mayor. Something was being hidden from her and she was determined to find out.

Outside, the path that led to the dam was off to their right. They stalled at the hole in the wall for a long moment. The silence and rainfall was broken by Cole. “There is so much hurt here. I can hear them. All clattering cups against bars, but scared of the open door.”

Sael nodded. “There is something very wrong here. Not just the rift.” Iron Bull herded the group away from the mayor’s front door. “Why not want the easy solution?”

“Perhaps there are some sordid secrets in the remains of Crestwood?” Solas offered.

Iron Bull scoffed. “All this time, ten years, under water.”

“A subtable chest or trunk box would protect them.”

“Look at you, Chuckles, being an optimist for a change.”

“I am into it.”

“Roads, anything Chuckles does and you’re on board.”

“Bed, more like it.”

“Sael!”

“I knew it. You two are an item.”

“Tiny, you didn’t know? And all the spy training was for what then?”

“...I wasn’t looking for it.”

“Tsk, tsk. It’s alright Bull, we don’t want anything public right now.”

“Don’t want nobles harassing you for two elves being in power? I can get you some of my mail from the merchants guild if you’re wanting a slightly less annoying batch of invaders to deal with.”

“It’s not like that, Varric.”

“What’s it like then? What are you protecting?”  
“Privacy.”

“Oh.”

“...” Iron Bull looked around. “Wait, where did Cole go?”

‘Teasing, laughing and smiling. Warmth fills my soul as the world falls away. Can this moment freeze.’ Cole’s mind ran through the others conversation again as he slipped away from the group. There was a very loud worry in Crestwood that was making it hard to hear anything else. The others didn’t need him right now, but another did.

The door opened and Cole was faced with the source of the loudest pain. A plain man standing in front of his fireplace. Cole didn’t need to see his face to see the worry that was eating at the man. The spirit of compassion made his presence known. The man was startled.

“Who are you?!” He looked for other potential bandits.

Cole’s head tilted a bit. “I’m with the Inquisition. You were muttering about someone.”

“I was?”

“Smells thick of smoke, herbs and of a fresh kill from the hunt. She draws back the bow, the look in her eyes is so beautiful.”

“You’ve seen Judith too?” He sighed. “Oh Maker, if something happens to her. Why doesn’t she live in the village while this is going on?”

“Are you looking for her? You won’t find her here. She’s out there.”

“Yes, Judith lives outside the village. I asked her to hide here when the undead came, but she wouldn’t hear it.” He pawed the back of his neck, sheepishly tapping the toes of a boot to the floor.

Cole slowly wound his fingers around each other. “Liks her space. Too many buildings, the sky gets tangled.”

“I told Judith my house as enough.” He continued. “Me and the boy can sleep in the barn if she want’d room. She turned me down.”

“I could tell her what you want.” Cole suggested, his tone unchanged.

The man nodded, trying to hide his excitement. “Yes, that would be wonderful.” He stopped and shook his head. A glance about his home looking for an explanation. He thought for a moment he had been talking to someone but there was no one. He let it go and chalked it up to the Breach in the sky.

Cole walked South of Crestwood. There wasn’t much for companions or conversation. Still, out in the open spaces of the world away from towns and cities, his head was a bit quieter. Cole stopped twice to comforta a lost looking fennec fox and one to pull up a stubborn root for a hungry duffalo. He made it as far as Dead Man’s pass when he came across a group of men in armor. They turned to see Cole, a lone frail looking man, staring at them.

“Yer eyes broken, boy?” The larger of the men snapped through his helmet.

Cole shook his head. “No, they work fine. Have you seen Judith?” His mouth clamped shut. The hostility that lurked in the men bubbled a bit. “Leave, I am with the Inquisition.”

“They’re the new big money walking ‘round Thedas.” One of the enemy rogues chuckled. “Looking for a lost girl, Judith, was it?”

“Yes.”

“Come with us then. We know where you’re lost girly is.” The larger man came over and slapped a meaty metal arm around Cole’s shoulders.

“Why you dressed like this, looking so sad? Who’s funeral is it?”

Cole’s face and tone never faltered. “I haven’t decided yet.”

The larger man burst out a hearty laugh. “Boy’s plucky. Maybe we’ll save him for last.”

“No I don’t need to eat.” Cole answered. “Don’t save for me.”

They headed over to Whitter’s farm. Cole didn’t resist. Even when the men produced a rope and bound him to a chair. A family’s hosting tradition. The sun had begun to set when the kidnappers stepped outside, palms smashed to their foreheads. Cole was hardly helpful in ways they wanted him. At one point he started reciting a recipe the brutes mother had made for him when he was a child. How it tasted and made him feel as if he was king of the world for as long as the meal would last. In a bout of frustrations, the rogues bickered. One screamed ‘fuck you’ at the other. In a slip of the tongue the only rebuttal that had been offered was to call the first a coward and for him to do it himself. A tense silence consumed the abandoned farm. Cole quietly but very clearly broke the silence with confirmation that both rogues secretly wanted that very thing.

The brute sank to sit on a wood chopping stump. “I don’t know how much more I can take from the kid.”

“What are we going to do?” One rogue complained. “What good is a hostage if we’re the ones feeling trapped and brutally exposed in front of loved ones.”

“Well, now we know it’s ‘loved ones’.” The brute groaned loudly. “Short of going in there and trashing on a lute and screaming...I’ve got nothing.”

“...”

“I have a lute.”

The brute and other rogue groaned loudly again. The other half of the new found lovers tossed his hands up. “You know what, do it Marcus. Go and scream till he cracks. Can’t read your mind if all you're doing is screaming.”

With a lute in hand, the rogue stepped back into the room and sat on a small table. He raked his nails up and down across the string of the lute and unleashed a high pitched shrieking scream. 

Iron Bull grabbed Sael by the shoulder and twisted her around. They were a ways out east of Crestwood when a rogue bandit was seen jogging toward them. He was waving and calling for the Inquisitor. Solas cast a barrier on the party as Varric aimed Bianca at the rogue.

The man stopped short, catching his breath for a moment before addressing Solas and Varric. “We have your son.”

Varric and Solas traded extremely confused looks. “Chuckles we need to talk about child support then.”

Solas sneered for a split second and looked back to the bandit. “We don’t have a son.”

He nodded, “Yes, he said a dwarf and elf with the inquisitor were his dads. Made us reevaluate our life choices and now we feel really bad for taking him. Can you come pick him up?”

Everyone had varied reactions of surprise. Sael had to cover her mouth to stop from bursting with laughter. Iron Bull’s shoulders slumped as he sighed, shaking his head. Solas merely raised an eyebrow.

Varric smacked a hand to his face and dragged it down. “Maker’s balls, you have Cole.”

The rogue was unsure why they reacted as such but shrugged. “My name is Marcus and I was a bandit. Now I’m going to be a painter like my grandma wanted me to be”


	32. Chapter 32

Varric led the group behind the bandit, Marcus, to a cabin a ways from Crestwood. It wasn’t long given the brisk pace they kept. Cole was seen at a distance, sitting on a stone wall while a woman picked plants from a garden. A man nearly the size of Iron Bull held a plow in hand as a smaller bandit held a partly full basket out to the woman.

Cole turned to see the group approaching. “You made it.”

Varric shook his head. “Maker’s balls, kid.” He gestured to the two very obvious bandits. “You go missing once and you’re kidnapped.”

“Why do people say ‘Maker’s balls’? How do they know if he’s a deity? Are you sure the Maker isn’t a woman?” Cole shrugged off the apparent danger that had passed him over.

Everyone was silent for a long moment. Judith stood straight and smirked. “Your boy always like this?”

“He’s not…” Varric paused, holding a finger up. “Yes, yes my boy is always like this.”

“Right.” Judith came over to Cole and pushed a small loaf of bread into his hands. “Eat something, you’re practically a skeleton. And...keep making friends.” She patted his cheek and dismissed him to the group before returning to the garden to bark orders at the reformed bandits.

“A tear dropped in the sea and when someone finds it, I’ll stop loving you.” Cole watched Judith stop in her tracks. “Gauld is waiting in Crestwood for you.”

She chuckled. “That’s him alright. The man is fast with a loom, but lousy with a sword. He’s safer there. Please, let him know I’m alright.” Her hand lifted to her face to wipe a faint tear away.

Cole nodded and rejoined Sael and the others. “Thank you for coming to help me.”

“Didn’t look like you needed it.” Sael waved him off. “But why did you tell them Solas and Varric were both your father?”

“Solas knows how to be one.” Cole said flatly. The group all turned to see his face. It was stoic and still as it usually was. Sael almost missed the flash of pained panic in his eyes.

“Anyone with the right education and experience can be a father, Cole.” Solas quickly deflected suspicion.

Cole turned to Sael. “Are you still a mother then? You-” His mouth clamped shut. “Forgive me, I feel the pain now. I see it and I can’t heal it. Why?”

Sael’s face fell a bit. “Sometimes, we suffer so that we remember.”

Varric and Iron Bull finally managed to wipe the shock off their faces. “Can we limit the weirdness that is experienced in a day for a bit?” Varric tried to wrap the concept of a spirit giving birth, and the imagery of Solas being a parent, around his head. Nothing was connecting right.

“A good idea as far as this subject goes.” Solas encouraged the group to move on to the dam.

Seventeen hours he sat outside the room Sayuri had taken to give birth. The pregnancy had been complicated and Mythal’s other priestess had given ominous and vague predictions related to it. Four hours in, her outcries of pain had started, escalating into howling screams of agony with every hour. Solas wanted nothing more than to have been at her side, but the priestess chased him out early in the labour. There was nothing he could do, magically or physically, than to sit and bide his time. Encase an enemy in a shell of ice, boil the flesh off their bones or evaporate the water in their bodies; it was a flick of a wrist to accomplish. But magic to hold back the physical traumas of birth, he was imcompetent. Nurses and caregivers dashed in and out the room at first. Eventually, no one had exited the room for hours. He couldn’t remember when was the last time he saw someone come or go until the midwife came out to speak to him.

She approached slowly, clutching the hem of a bloody apron. She looked up at Solas, her expression spoke volumes. “...Solas…”

“No.” He rose from his chair, his legs threatening to give out beneath him. “No, don’t say it, it can’t be. Please, Lyria, don’t do this to me.”

“We did all we could….but”

“NO!” Solas gripped the arm of the chair and hurled it away. “Where is my wife, my child?! Who’s blood is that?!” He roared through a stifled sob. He weakly tried to push past the midwife and into the room. It was a cruel prank. Sayuri and their child were fine.

The door cracked open in the struggle, a nurse was trying to exit and help the midwife calm Solas. In that open slit Solas could see a sheeted form streaked with blood. Fear and rage consumed him and he broke past the women and into the room. Caregivers rushed to grab him. Solas managed to grab the sheet and yank it free to see Sayuri on a makeshift table. The birthing chair, bloody and kicked aside. Sayuri lay there, open and blue like a victim of a frenzied attacker. Solas froze in horror at the mangled sight of his wife. It wasn’t until he saw another blood tinted sheet beside her. Tiny and motionless.

One midwife took a chance in the silence to explain. “My friend, I am so sorry but your wife and daughter didn’t make it. We did everything we could but…”

Solas dropped to his knees, curling to the floor and broke down. He screamed till his throat bled and there was no sound coming out. The future he and Sayuri had hoped for was gone forever in a single bloody day. It felt like ages had passed before he was able to stand again. He went over to the covered shape of his daughter and scooped her up into his arms. The sheet brushed back to see her face.

“By the powers of earth and sky. By the world that was to be your home.” Solas whispered, gently placing his forehead to hers. “Forgive me, you who came, but I could not embrace. I name thee, Mira, and embrace you, for the first and last time, as my daughter. Sleep well, little one.” He held her tight, preparing himself for the trying months that would follow the moment he put her back down.

A peel of lightning ripped Solas from his memory. He hadn’t realized they made camp a short ways from the edge of the old fort that the bandits had claimed. He was sitting alone with Sael beside a small campfire. Iron Bull had taken first watch and Varric was sound asleep. Cole lingered just beyond the fire’s light.

“You left us.”

“It seems I did.” Solas groaned, running a hand over his head. “To nowhere good for that matter.”

Sael took a deep breath and scooted closer, rubbing a hand on his back in small circles. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Cole wasn’t wrong.”

“I guessed as much. He’s perceptive like that.”

Solas groaned quietly, steadying his nerves before explaining anything. “I was married, many years ago. An elf woman named Sayuri, we were expecting a child. She and the baby died in childbirth. I… I didn’t handle it well.”

There was no special comfort she could offer. She leaned over and hugged Solas, begging that she would be able to squeeze him tight enough to smooth the jagged edges of the memory. “I know how it feels. Nothing said or done is ever enough to take the pain away.” She spoke against his neck. “But if we’re going to face those memories, we can do it together.”

Solas held her just as tightly. He remembered Sannek’s death and what she gave up. “Sael, I’m sorry. I pried into your memories of Sannek. I know.”

Sael sat back suddenly “You saw the rest? The child?”

“Yes.”

Tears welled in her eyes. “I wasn’t ready to share that.”

“I know, I’m sorry, I mean it.”

Sael brushed tears away, “Thank you, I wish that changed what you did.”

“I know.”

“...”

“What now?”

“Right now?” Sael took another deep breath. I want to curl up with you and sleep. Wake up in a bit and go bashing skulls in. You?”

Solas nodded. “I like that plan.”

Bandits, dead, broken and bloody marked the path of destruction that Sael and Solas blazed. Iron Bull, Varric and Cole were barely able to keep up as the spirit of the Deep Roads and apostate elf worked through their pains on others. As the Highwayman chief slumped over dead, Sael stepping over his corpse toward the fort’s flag pole, Cole nodded.

“Something you want to share, Kid?” Varric slung Bianca on his back. “Maybe an insight to why those two are so violently driven today?”

“Releasing tension.”

“By savage murder?” Iron Bull recalled seeing Tal-Vashoth fly off the handle like Sael and Solas were.

Cole nodded again. “Sometimes the hurt can only go away when it’s given to another. It’s the best they can do right now.”

“They working through something?” Varric watched Sael hoist the Inquisition flag. “Those two seem to get along perfectly, even when suffering.”

The spirit of compassion’s gaze fell inward. “Moon drunk monster, beautiful and strange. Howl your melancholy question and tell me, which you dread more. The echo or the answer?”

“A simple yes or no would work.” Iron Bull groaned as he found a spot to sit and rest from the intense pace.

“The echo.” Cole made his way to Sael and Solas, leaving Varric and Iron Bull with the only answer he gave.

Gathered again, they headed for the dam controls across a long bridge out of the back of the fort. Inquisition soldiers would see the flag flying in the fort and begin taking ownership soon enough. Sael wasn’t in the mood to wait. She wanted to get things moving so she could meet Hawke’s contact and get out of that tainted hamlet. The path wound down a hill to a building at the far end of the bridge. It functioned to house the dam’s controls and a tavern. Once inside they were faced with a startled couple from Crestwood.

They pleaded that no one in Crestwood find out they were there. Sael pinched the bridge of her nose. “Why...this is hardly romantic. Just tell me one thing: how did you get past the guards?!”

“There weren’t any when we got here.” The woman sheepishly explained, eyes fixed on the floor.

“We just heard you kill the bandits, your worship. We didn’t know you were moving in.” The man added quickly.

Iron Bull grunted. “That mayor made it out like these bandits had been here for years.”

“I got the same impression, Tiny.” Varric crossed his arms. “So why lie about it?”

Sael shook her head. “I get the idea he’s lying about a lot of things. Little lie, big lie.”

“You won’t tell people we was in here, will you?” The man cut in.

She shook her head. “No, but for the love of anything, think before you sneak around. The bandits wouldn’t have been so kind.” Sael left them to check the only other door in the tavern. It led to the dam controls. They were in perfect condition.

“The mayor said these controls were destroyed by darkspawn, flooding old Crestwood.” Solas recalled as Bull pushed the wheel to an open setting. “It seems we’ve uncovered another lie.”

Varric shook his head, tongue clicking. “Man could write a mystery novel with all this duffaloshit coming out.”

“Bull would you kindly?” She gestured to the controls. He snorted, smirking as he cracked his neck. The controls would be a poor workout for him. “I think we need to stop in on the aspiring mystery writing mayor before we search for the caves.”

“Sounds great, I could use some fresh ideas.” Varric reloaded and quickly adjusted Bianca before heading for the door. They left as a group, sending off a raven to signal the forces to occupy the fortress.

Rain battered the walls of the mayor’s cabin. He fidgeted with his fingers as Seal and the others fixed harsh gazes on him. Sael repeated herself. “You said the controls were smashed during the Blight. I want to commision the one who fixed them for some work. Who was it?”

“Who could have…” The mayor paused, averting his eyes and scrambling to answer the Inquisitor. “It must have been Robert. Our wheelwright. He kept busy mending things after the flood.”

“Where is Robert then?”

“He vanished a month later.”

“Plot convenience.” Varric muttered under a chuckle.

The mayor visibly swallowed. “We...we found the body in the spring, hanging from a pine.”

“An apprentice perhaps?” Solas cut in.

“Please, I can think no more of this. That poor soul deserved better.” The mayor bit a knuckle to fight back a sob.

Sael said nothing as she nodded and herded the others back out the door. The mayor jerked his door shut, the latch loudly banging into place. The group went to stand beside a nearby wall to plan their next action.

“Cole?” Sael called the spirit to attention. He tilted his head at her. “Did you get anything from the mayor?”

“Was I supposed to be listening?” Cole shrugged. “He is hurting but I can’t find the thread to pull it loose. He is carrying too many hurts. All tangled around his heart.”

“So he feels guilty?” Iron Bull dismissed the notion with a scowl toward the mayor's house.

“No.” Cole’s face wriggled and twisted as he tried to find the words he needed. “It stands by his pain, but he still punishes himself for it. Hundreds for one is too many. Just one evil will save the rest. Take the lame and damned down, down, down, down so we can’t hear them. Let there be silence from the lambs and haunt only me.”

Varric shook his head, a chill running up his back. “I have a few theories about what all that means and none of it is good.”

“Yeah.” Iron Bull’s scowl only deepened. “There are hard choices and there are ones made in panic.”

Sael and Solas unconsciously reached each other's hands toward each other. “Hundreds for one. I’ve got ideas too, but let’s find the proof.”

Past the shoreline that made the lake drowning the remains of Old Crestwood was the town itself. The buildings rotting, crumbling and slumping over in places. Seaweed and unfortunate fish stranded from the receding waters littered nearly everything. A larger building on a raised stone and earthen platform caught the group’s attention. Rifling through they found a chest that had been treated more kindly than most of the rest of Old Crestwood. Sael skimmed it, she handed it to the others with her head hanging.

“Well then.” Iron Bull finished and passed it to Varric and Solas. “The mayor caused the flood, blamed the Blight and darkspawn to cover his tracks.”

Sael nodded. “Yep. One for hundreds, makes sense now. He wrote that the Blight had infected the town.”

“Hardly an excuse for murdering those who were healthy.” Solas squeezed the confession in his hand.

Varric paced a bit. “The Blight can’t be stopped, it’ll kill whoever it infects. But this...this is extreme.” Sael came over and patted his shoulder. “We need to close this rift and have words with the mayor.”

“I have a few in mind for him.”

Back outside they quickly found the path leading to the door for the caves beneath Old Crestwood.


End file.
